


lovers alone wear sunlight

by mihael_jeevas



Series: something bigger than the sky [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 41,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihael_jeevas/pseuds/mihael_jeevas
Summary: Shisui says nothing, and the silence drags on long enough that Itachi finally pulls back to look at him. The Captain’s is staring at him, features tight and pained, and a chill works its way down Itachi’s spine at the sight. Finally, Shisui asks, “Do you trust me?”“You know I do,” Itachi tells him, not even pausing to consider the question. It isn’t necessary, not when he’s known the answer for so long now.“Okay,” he breathes, resolute, and leans in to cover Itachi’s lips with his own.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Shisui
Series: something bigger than the sky [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499588
Comments: 26
Kudos: 36





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks! while the warnings and boost in rating don't apply for this chapter, definitely keep them in mind so you aren't completely surprised by Certain Developments. more specific content warnings will be posted when necessary. enjoy!

**stardate 2268.269**

“I spy with my little eye something… black.” ****

Quirking an eyebrow, Itachi glances at Shisui, seated as always in his Captain’s chair, and dryly offers, “Let me guess: you are referring to the sky.” ****

Shisui grins, boyish and amused. “How’d you know?” ****

“Perhaps it is because that has been your answer for your last three rounds.” Itachi has lost track of exactly how long it’s just been the two of them on the bridge, when the last of their loyal crewmembers finally finished their shift and drifted back to their quarters. These days it feels as if Shisui and himself are always at their post, standing ready and waiting for the end of the world. Still, even if he can feel the ache of exhaustion in each one of his bones, it’s not a wholly unpleasant experience; now more than ever Itachi prizes the little time they have like this, at ease and unbothered by the chaos whirling all around them. ****

“Hey, cut me some slack,” Shisui replies with a scoff. Some of the mirth drains from his face, highlighting the shadows curling beneath his eyes, as he adds, softer, “For once I’m not working with much out there.” ****

With a sinking in his heart, Itachi can’t help but agree. In their current moment the eternal night surrounding them is as silent and empty as the grave, a sharp contrast to what their vast universe has recently turned into. ****

In the two hundred and two days since his mother’s passing, the world around Itachi has quickly become a very different place. The various changes he has experienced have consisted of both internal and external forces. On a more micro level, the course of Itachi’s life has been forever changed by Mikoto’s death, shifted into an entirely new and slightly terrifying direction by the loss. With his biggest champion gone from this world, Itachi has been forced to make his way through life without the safety net he’s realized he may have taken from granted. A future without his mother’s warmth and guidance seems sharp and bright, not to mention daunting, but Itachi has made a real and true effort to carry on in her memory. ****

Though the sentiment may seem cliche, Mikoto’s death has freed Itachi from many of his fears and constraints, considering that in the face of such unimaginable grief his petty complaints and anxieties seem meaningless at best. With that in mind, it’s been easier for Itachi to take on some of the struggles that once loomed so large, like assuming a more commanding role on his ship or reconnecting with his brother. But in the months since Mikoto’s passing it would seem that his bravery has paid off, as the relationships in his life have never been more secure. Shockingly even his bond with his father has remained steady, though Itachi has yet to work up the courage to address the Izumi-shaped elephant in the room; honestly the less said about that particular issue, the better. ****

Of course, the shifting of the political ground the Federation was built upon has created a very convenient opportunity for Itachi to shirk his Vulcan responsibilities. Though it feels selfish and cruel to perceive their current struggle in such a manner, it is an undeniable fact that the sprawling intergalactic drama of the last few months has made Itachi’s personal conflicts seem smaller and far less important by comparison. ****

While relations between the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire have always been tenuous, recently the mask of peace and cooperation between the two factions has finally collapsed, throwing the citizens of both groups into a whirlwind of fear and bloodshed. It had started with only the slightest of offenses, with an errant Starfleet vessel accidentally trespassing on Empire territory. But with a history as sour as the two group’s was, all it took was a flicker to light the flames of war, and it wasn’t long before their fellow Starfleet soldiers were being drafted to duke it out with the finest Klingon warriors in the galaxy. Throughout the year the battle has flickered hot and cold, alternating between spycraft and outright battle, but it’s clear the worst is yet to come. ****

The ongoing conflict has swept up much of Starfleet’s personnel and the crew of the Corvus has been no exception. Recently they’ve been pushed harder than ever before, taking mission after mission at a breakneck pace that’s been gruelling on even the ship’s strongest members. With the threat of full-blow warfare hanging on the horizon, keeping morale up has been a struggle despite Shisui’s best efforts. While they’ve been lucky to avoid getting dragged into truly dangerous territory, grimly Itachi suspects it’s only a matter of time before their good fortune runs out. ****

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Shisui asks, pulling Itachi from his thoughts. “Sitting still, waiting for trouble to find us. I can’t stand when it’s this quiet.” ****

Despite it all, a familiar affection plucks at Itachi’s chest. “No,” he agrees fondly, “I don’t suppose you would.” If there’s any consolation to be found in their disquieting new normal it’s the comfort Itachi continues to find in the simple act of spending time with Shisui. After his mother’s death he had suspected that, once the intense wound of grief had softened into scar tissue they would return to the awkward stasis they had found themselves locked into because of the events on the Beta Spaceport. But thankfully no such thing had happened. If anything, it had seemed as if the two of them had finally reached an unspoken agreement on their implacable and emotionally-fraught camaraderie. ****

It had become a common joke on their ship, whispered between crewmembers and expressed through knowing looks, that rarely were the two separated from one another for very long, though it was never remarked upon in malice. Even Itachi, a person still struggling to fully grasp the depths of emotions like love and devotion, understands with a stunning certainty that there’s very little the residents of the Corvus wouldn’t do for himself and Shisui both. It’s a level of loyalty Itachi hopes to express fully someday, should his tight-lipped disposition ever allow it. Overall, it feels as if, despite the danger lingering all around them, they’ve managed to find a perfect harmony, one Itachi has been careful not to disrupt with his more… _unprofessional_ yearnings. ****

His expression twisted in comic offense, Shisui retorts, “Look, I just don’t like surprises. If something bad’s going to happen, I’d rather it just hurry up and catch us.” ****

As if on cue, the main comm screen flickers to life, and Itachi narrows his eyes at his companion. “I hope you know that this is entirely your fault.” ****

“Hey, now. Don’t shoot the messenger,” Shisui mutters as he presses the necessary buttons to accept the incoming signal. An unknown face greets them, a man with a face that’s ancient and pale, his skin lined with age and grief. Adopting a more solemn, commanding tone, Shisui announces, “This is Shisui Uchiha, Captain of the USS Corvus. What can I do for you?” ****

“Good evening, Captain. My name is Admiral Homura Mitokado, and I am afraid I am calling upon you with regrettable news,” the man answers.

A sick, winding anxiety immediately flows through Itachi’s veins. He suspects a similar sensation possesses Shisui as well, as almost immediately the man’s jaw tenses and his lips curve down. Nevertheless, he orders, “Go on.” ****

“It is in regards to Admiral Sarutobi,” Mitokado replies, which is probably the last thing either of them is expecting. Even more shocking is when the man continues, in a gravelly baritone, “Unfortunately, I must inform you that he passed away early this morning.” ****

“Oh, shit,” Shisui breathes, his polished demeanor temporarily slipping as he leans back in his chair. ****

Frowning, Itachi moves closer to the screen and asks, “How did this happen?” ****

“I suspect I know what you are thinking, but the cause of death was nothing nefarious. In the end, a weak heart claimed the Admiral’s life, though I don’t doubt that the Klingon war hastened his downfall.” Sadness flashes in the man’s eyes for just a moment, so quick Itachi is sure he could have blinked and missed it. But it’s just as suddenly removed and forgotten as Admiral Mitokado says, “Unless I am mistaken, I believe you have Hiruzen’s only son on your crew.” ****

“I do,” Shisui confirms, sitting up straighter at the mention of Asuma. “I’d rather tell him this information myself, if that’s alright with you.” ****

“Of course. That is exactly why I was hoping to speak with you.” The man before them pauses, as if to collect his thoughts in the most non-threatening and politically savvy fashion possible, and Itachi can almost feel Shisui’s irritation vibrating in the air around him; for someone with such a respected, high-ranking position his intolerance towards diplomacy and Federation secret-selling was almost laughable. “It’s common knowledge the Admiral’s relationship with his son has always been… complicated. But he wouldn’t have wanted Asuma to find out about his death through some low-rent tabloid.” ****

“That makes two of us, then.” Given Shisui’s relationship to his subordinates, Itachi isn’t surprised by his desire to shield Asuma from the ugliness of his father’s passing; very few forces in the known universe could match the power of Shisui’s fierce protective instinct towards his crew, and Itachi is well-aware of Shisui’s soft spot for the pilot in question. Knowing how Shisui would have stood his ground and fought for his right to look out for his people makes Itachi love him just a little bit more, something he hadn’t thought could even be possible. “You don’t have to worry about Asuma; I’ll take care of him.” ****

“A great comfort in these troubled times. Please take care of yourself as well, Captain.” Without another word Homura Mitokado winks out of existence, leaving Itachi and Shisui with their thoughts and a lingering sense of dread. ****

“Well,” Shisui eventually sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, “this changes things.” ****

Itachi nods, even if he isn’t so sure that’s truly the case. These days it feels like all they know is change, as if the life they walk through is made only of sand shifting beneath their feet. As grim as it is, Itachi knows that this moment, like every other moment before it, will pass, and they’ll once again find themselves caught up in another crisis. With each day, the universe seems to grow that much smaller and certainly much more frightening. ****

A second ticks by, then another, then another. Nothing feels all that different, but it also doesn’t feel exactly the same, either. ****

After a long moment, Shisui turns to look at him, visibly unnerved but clearly trying to push past it. “You wanna go again?” ****

It feels as if they have suddenly entered the eye of a very violent storm. So, not knowing what else to do, Itachi replies, “Only if you do not pick black again.”

*

Unsurprisingly to Itachi, the death of Hiruzen Sarutobi causes little disruption to the Corvus at first. In the grand scheme of things the loss of one man--even admittedly an incredibly powerful and respected one--has little impact on a crew that is becoming increasingly immune to bad news. That said, it doesn’t take long for ship’s to rally around a grieving Asuma. ****

True to form, Shisui had kept his word and pulled the pilot aside almost immediately after the fateful call detailing the Admiral’s demise came through. It was a task that Itachi, still raw and broken over his own recent devastation, was more than willing to leave to the Captain, who was always so much more gifted than himself in such matters anyway. Shisui hadn’t divulged may details of the discussion to Itachi in the hopes of protecting the little privacy Asuma would have going forward, and Itachi certainly couldn’t blame him; having been the center of his own public mourning festival earlier in the year, Itachi can understand the need to cling to the hidden sentiments and tight-knit bonds between comrades. ****

While Asuma’s characteristically unbothered demeanor often made him something of an inscrutable figure, even the most socially clueless creature could see that his father’s passing was having an effect on him. The weight of his loss was evident in the heavy set of his features and the terseness of his tone, to say nothing of the fog that seemed to occupy his mind during his work on the bridge. That lack of direction has begun to spread through the rest of their team, trickling down through the ranks and leaving confusion and distress in its wake. It was no doubt an unsettling sight for Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji, who had the distinction of being both some of the youngest members of the crew and also the people closest to Asuma. ****

That in mind, Itachi supposes it was only a matter of time before something--or _someone_ \--had to give. On a mild and relatively mundane morning Itachi is in his office catching up on paperwork when a knock disrupts his focus. It has never been common for him to receive company in his tiny office adjacent to the Science Lab, but in fairness it’s also rare for Itachi to spend a significant amount of time in the room. Usually he’s to be found in his Lab, the bridge, or Shisui’s own office, meaning that if his visitor has tracked him here they have been looking for him rather intensely. The mystery deepens as he gives his permission for his guest to enter and gets a look at the person who steps inside. “Good afternoon, Asuma,” Itachi greets the pilot, more than a little surprised by the man’s presence. “Is there something I can do for you?” ****

“To be honest, I was actually looking for the Captain,” Asuma admits as he carefully closes the door, and Itachi raises an eyebrow. In hindsight, he supposes he should have suspected as much, as Asuma has always been far quicker to seek out Shisui’s advice or direction than his own. However, there’s an oddly charged energy lingering between them that has Itachi feeling as if there’s a very obvious detail he is missing out on. ****

“Well, as you can see I am afraid he is not here,” he replies, gesturing about his empty quarters for emphasis. His curiosity deepens at the very noticeable way that Asuma is currently evading his gaze. ****

“Yeah, I kind of got that impression already. It’s just that he usually tends to be wherever you are, so I figured…” Asuma trails off as Itachi’s second eyebrow climbs to meet the first. To his credit, the man at least has the grace to look embarrassed by the assumption. Itachi can’t exactly begrudge Asuma given that he’s frankly not wrong and Shisui usually is found in Itachi’s general direction. But that doesn’t mean he’s pleased by the implication of the statement, either. ****

Clearing his throat, Asuma scratches at his beard with noticeable discomfort before continuing, “Uh, anyway. The reason I was looking for Shisui is that I needed to talk to him about my father’s memorial service.” ****

At that, the irritation in Itachi’s features smoothes out immediately. “Oh,” he murmurs, feeling foolish for not having made the connection himself and more than a little self-centered for momentarily forgetting the huge loss Asuma is currently navigating. “Of course. I take it you wish to return to Earth for the occasion?” ****

With a pained chuckle, Asuma answers, “Honestly, it’s pretty much the last thing I want to do, considering how we left things. But I keep having this nagging feeling that if I don’t go I’ll regret it, so. Here we are.” An unpleasant wave of deja vu passes through Itachi at Asuma’s words, and the discomfort must show on his face as seconds later the pilot adds, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this considering you just lost your mom.” ****

Raising a hand to object, Itachi says, “Please, do not apologize. Given the current state of our world I certainly do not have a monopoly on grief.” He pauses for a moment to articulate his sentiments, hoping to connect his words in the most sincere yet helpful fashion possible. Not for the first time he thinks about how years ago such a task would have been unthinkable, but times have changed and, despite the odds, Itachi has changed with them. “While I understand our circumstances are quite different, I would like to offer my confidence should you find you require it. Had I not received the support of our crew I do not know how I would have coped with my mother’s death.” ****

Asuma blinks, looking stunned, and for a moment Itachi feels a second of self-doubt, worried he’s overstepped his bounds or violated some strange human grieving ritual. But the expression is momentary and in seconds it melts into something almost painfully grateful. “Thank you, Itachi,” Asuma replies sincerely, his voice warm and rough. “I don’t know if we say it enough, but we’re lucky to have you around.” ****

“With all due respect, I believe it is I who is lucky,” he tells Asuma, unable to suppress the soft way his lips curl as he speaks. There have been an uncountable amount of moments since the day Itachi returned his mother’s body to the soil and rock of his home planet where he has felt, without a shadow of a doubt, the affection and loyalty his crew has for him. Each time such occurrences tend to be small and perhaps insignificant to most, but for Itachi they are more important than he could ever verbalize. He treats the kind words and thoughtful gestures of the people around them with an unshakable reverence, proof that somehow, deep in the depths of a cruel and uncaring universe, he’s found a strange little home all his own. _Yet another one for the collection_ , he thinks with fond amusement. 

Returning to the original topic of discussion, he adds, “I cannot be certain, but if you are looking for the Captain I would suggest checking the Security Department. Over the years, I have learned that whenever Shisui disappears without warning Mitarashi is often the culprit.” ****

“Now that’s a troubling prospect,” Asuma mutters, grimacing at the prospect, and Itachi’s own expression is just as grave. ****

“You have no idea.” ****

Later that day, long after Asuma has braved the storm of the Security Department in search of their wayward Captain and Itachi has returned to the joys of alphabetizing his lab reports, it’s announced that Asuma will be taking a temporary leave from the ship. The news is delivered to a small group of the more senior officers as they gather in the Mess Hall with lukewarm coffees and teas in hand as Asuma delivers the news that he will be leaving the Corvus to her own devices for the next week. Given the circumstances, Itachi isn’t surprised that Asuma would choose to take extra time off to grieve at home with Kurenai and their newborn daughter, and he can tell by the even set of Shisui’s features that he certainly knew beforehand.

But clearly it is not a decision that has been made obvious to the rest of the crew. Almost immediately after Asuma’s finished speaking a visibly concerned Ino, seated protectively at his right side, asks, “And you’re sure you don’t want us to come with you?” ****

From his left Shikamaru yawns loudly and retorts, “Jeez, give it a rest, will ya? Asuma said he wants to go alone. Why do you always have to stick your nose in everyone’s business?” ****

“Because unlike some people I actually care about my companions,” Ino snaps back, scowling, and the engineer snorts in response. ****

“Ugh, you’re such a--” ****

“Shikamaru, I would highly recommend not finishing that sentence,” Asuma interrupts sternly before turning to face the Betazoid beside him. His expression softening, he adds, “Ino, I appreciate the offer, but believe me, I’ll be okay.” ****

“Too bad the old man’s already dead or else you could’ve slipped in a farewell punch or two.” Each head at the table turns to stare in disbelief, but Shikamaru continues, undaunted, “Pfft, like you weren’t all thinking the same thing.”

“Hardly,” Ino mutters. ****

“I was,” Chouji chimes in, earning a snicker from Shikamaru and a glare from Ino in response. ****

Looking at his proteges with visible concern, Asuma asks, “Should I be concerned about leaving the three of you without supervision?” ****

“Nothing to worry about, Asuma,” Shisui assures brightly, draped half over Itachi’s chair while looking like the picture of absolute confidence. “I’ll be sure to keep your baby ducklings in line for you.” ****

“You say this as if I’m not worried about you most of all,” Asuma replies, and Shisui squawks in disbelief. Ignoring him, Asuma looks to Itachi with pleading eyes and says, “Itachi, please don’t let him destroy the ship while I’m gone.” ****

Despite his growing comfort with his crew Itachi still prefers to sit back and quietly observe his surroundings during moments like this. While in his younger years he may have once bristled at the loud and brash intimacy of his companions, these days he cannot help but be charmed. Everyone is perfectly imperfect in just the way he thinks a family should be, a much-needed respite from the harsh world around them. “I am afraid I can make no promises,” Itachi admits, fighting a smile as he glances at Shisui. “He is quite unpredictable.” ****

“Excuse the both of you,” Shisui cuts in, visibly offended. “For your information, I will personally ensure that not a single thing goes wrong from this moment until you return. Mark my words, we’re going to have the calmest, most productive week yet, and I will make it happen just to spite you two.” ****

“I won’t hold my breath,” Asuma says, sipping at his coffee while avoiding Shisui’s withering glare. ****

Privately, Itachi cannot help but agree.

*

Though Itachi had attempted to be optimistic about the chances of achieving said calm, productive week, the truth is that he can’t bring himself to be surprised that after just forty-eight Asuma-less hours the crew of the Corvus manages to run into trouble. ****

In hindsight, it is perhaps Itachi who has doomed them all by privately remarking that things have gone surprisingly well in light of their lead pilot’s absence. Though he hadn’t wanted to admit it to the Captain, Itachi had more than a few concerns about Asuma leaving the Corvus in the middle of such a tumultuous and unpredictable time. Now more than ever they needed Asuma’s steady guidance and even temperament to help them brave the tides of bloodshed and deception, and despite his best efforts Chouji could hardly fill Asuma’s incredibly large shoes. That said, their ship had been blessed by calm skies and radio silence since Asuma’s departure, an occurrence that was as bizarre as it was appreciated. And so, with the Corvus seemingly flying under the radar, the crew focused on the mundane minute-to-minute struggles of keeping a massive spacecraft functional and flying rather than fussing over the existential crisis that was intergalactic warfare lingering on the horizon. ****

It was a pattern that Itachi was all too happy to fall in line with, right up until the moment he was summoned to the bridge on the afternoon of Asuma’s second day of leave. Such an occurrence was a frequent one, the type of request so common that on most days Itachi would hardly bat an eyelash at being asked to drop everything and appear at Shisui’s side. On this day, however, the thin tone of Shisui’s voice as he announces the order gives Itachi pause, and his suspicions are confirmed as he steps onto the bridge with a bored and nosey Kisame in tow. ****

Instead of the usual lively chatter and heated conversation there is... nothing. No orders are being barked out, no familiar banter is shared amongst the crewmembers. Around them all that is heard is the beeping of machinery and the hum of the ship’s engine as the Corvus’ inhabitants sit frozen in their discomfort. ****

“Whoa, who died?” Kisame blurts out as they enter, eyebrows raised curiously, and in response nearly every head in the room pivots to stare at him in disbelief. Quickly backpedaling, he adds, “I mean, besides Admiral Sarutobi. Oh, and I guess countless other people. Since we’re in a war and all.” The silence drags on, as dreadful as an ill-fitting sweater, meaning the words don’t have nearly the effect Kisame was hoping for. Leaning closer to Itachi, he mutters, “For the record, that question sounded way less insensitive in my head.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” Itachi murmurs. Turning his attention to the unusually quiet group, he raises his voice to ask, “Have there been more developments regarding the Empire?” ****

“Not… exactly,” Ino replies anxiously, wringing her hands in her lap. From across the room Anko coughs up a laugh--about the last reaction Itachi is expecting in the current moment--and quickly slaps a hand over her grinning mouth. Every other soul, including Shisui, remains terribly silent, so Itachi’s confusion only grows further when Ino explains, “We just received a new mission from Command. There’s a planet in the Beta Quadrant called Pragma that has expressed an interest in the Federation, and given their surplus of dilithium crystals and plentiful crops Starfleet is more than willing to take them on as well. We sort of need all the allies we can get right now.” ****

“That does sound like solid reasoning,” Itachi agrees slowly, still baffled and increasingly concerned by the unbearably tense atmosphere on the bridge. He hazards a glance at Kisame, but regrettably his friend looks just as puzzled as Itachi feels. It would seem the only way to get to the bottom of whatever predicament is currently plaguing the crew is to continue his interrogation of the visibly distressed Ino. With a frown, he asks, “Is there an issue with the planet itself?” ****

For some reason his straight-forward and innocent question brings on another round of giggles from Anko, who is positively vibrating with excitement and potentially the only person gathered who does not appear to be suffering. Darkly, Itachi thinks that it is a display that does not bode well for their ship’s future. ****

Hesitantly, Ino explains, “Um, yes and no. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of history on them, so Command wants us to spend some time checking them out since we’re so close by right now. The Captain asked me to initiate contact with them, and we had a lengthy conversation earlier today. They were very curious about the Federation and our crew, and their line of questioning led to a slight… miscommunication.”

“Oh, this is going to be so good,” Anko crows, kicking her feet in pure glee and nearly taking out poor Chouji in the process. ****

Shisui remains eerily silent in his captain’s chair while refusing to so much as look Itachi’s way. The stony set of his features has Itachi’s innards quickly plummeting. Narrowing his eyes, Itachi presses, “And what would that miscommunication _be_ , exactly?” ****

“The Pragmaen Council may or may not be under the impression that you and the Captain are… married,” Ino finishes, visibly wincing, and it takes everything in Itachi’s willpower not to scream or blackout on the spot. ****

While his own lips remain firmly pressed together until he can be sure of his reaction, the same cannot be said for Kisame. Letting out a long, disbelieving whistle, he looks at Itachi and asks, “Wow, that’s almost worse than war stuff, isn’t it?” ****

Itachi closes his eyes, focusing instead on the blackness behind his lids and the slow, steady flow of air through his lungs instead of responding. Once he trusts himself to be rational, he all but demands through gritted teeth, “Ino, how did this happen?” ****

“I don’t know, okay?” she cries. “I know I screwed up, but I really thought I had a solid grasp on the language and that I wouldn’t even need the universal translator.” ****

“It just keeps getting better and better,” Anko snickers, and her delight has Itachi seeing red. “Seriously, I _wish_ you could see your face right now.” ****

“Officer Mitarashi, if you have nothing constructive to add regarding our current predicament, I suggest you make yourself useful elsewhere,” Itachi snaps, all cold authority and burning spite as he glares at her. ****

In response, Anko lifts both hands, palms exposed in surrender, and declares, “Consider me gone.” As she makes her way out of the room she pauses for just a moment to pat a speechless and motionless Shisui on the shoulder and whisper, “Good luck, loverboy.” ****

With Anko’s sadistic energy removed from the bridge, it very quickly becomes a lot easier for Itachi to gather his thoughts. “While this is certainly not an ideal situation, it would seem one that is fairly easy to resolve,” he says, turning his attention back to Ino. “Why did you not correct them of this notion earlier?”

“That’s the other problem.” Sighing heavily, Ino explains, “Their society takes things like romance and commitment very seriously, and if they think that we lied to them about this in order to win their favor the penalties will be severe.” ****

It’s darkly fitting that just when Itachi thought this wretched situation could not get any worse once again the universe finds a way to correct him of his high expectations. “Ino,” he begins slowly, “you cannot be seriously suggesting that we play along with this ridiculous charade.” ****

“What else are we supposed to do?” The Betazoid asks, her tone just shy of frantic.

“ _Not_ fake a marriage that could get them both fired or worse?” Kisame offers helpfully; idly Itachi has a moment to consider how truly unreal this situation is that somehow _Kisame_ of all people has become the voice of reason. ****

“If we do that we risk alienating them and having them ally with the Klingon Empire.” Shoulders drooping in resignation, Ino frowns and says, “I’m really, _really_ sorry, but I think it’s our only chance if we want to secure their entry into the Federation.” 

There’s simply nothing left to say after that. Itachi is still silently reeling from the events of the last five minutes when Shisui rises from his chair and motions to leave. There’s tension in every line of his body and his features are unreadable, even when a wary Ino prompts, “Captain?” ****

Shisui pauses just long enough to mutter, “Let me know when we enter their atmosphere,” before leaving the bridge entirely, leaving a mountain of high emotions in his wake. ****

“Well, that was a disaster,” Kisame observes, and from the corner of his eye Itachi watches Chouji nod in agreement. ****

Burying her face in her hands, Ino whines, “He’s going to hate me for the rest of our lives, isn’t he?” ****

“Most likely not. I do not believe Shisui is cruel or petty enough to hold such a grudge,” Itachi assures her, his anger draining in the face of her obvious unhappiness. Having known Ino for nearly three years, Itachi is more than aware of Ino’s unfathomable work ethic and punishing standards, to say nothing of her affection for and devotion to the people around her. His own fondness for the young woman softens his reaction and he adds, gentler than before, “That said, I will speak with him on your behalf.” ****

The words have at least some of their intended effect, and a fraction of the weight of the world temporarily slips off Ino’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmurs, grateful, “and sorry. Again. I feel terrible.” ****

 _As do I_ , Itachi thinks grimly, but doesn’t dare speak the words aloud. There’s no salvaging the situation on either the bridge or on Pragma, meaning all Itachi can do is attempt to minimize the damage done to his personal life. Knowing Shisui as he does, Itachi’s certain that seeking the man out in his current state would be an entirely futile gesture. So, despite the anxious humming in his head, Itachi waits until two hours have passed before he looks for the Captain. It’s an unusually difficult task and Itachi realizes with an odd pang that he’s taken for granted just how available to him Shisui usually is. After an arduous search of the Corvus, Itachi finally locates the object of his quest in the ship’s Exercise Hall, taking out his very clear frustrations on a helpless punching bag. ****

It’s a truly sad state of affairs that currently Itachi is too emotionally muddled to appreciate the way Shisui’s sweat-soaked clothes stick to his toned frame or the disheveled curl of his hair. “Are you aware,” he begins flatly, “that Ino is under the impression you hate her?” ****

Shisui’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of Itachi’s voice and he pauses mid-punch. Exhaling harshly, he bends down to grab his water bottle and replies, after a long drink, “Can’t exactly say she’s wrong.“ Chucking the bottle onto his crumpled Starfleet uniform shirt, he continues, “You know, after all the years she’s spent begging me to settle down my mom’s going to be thrilled about this little development. Maybe we should tell our new friends we’ve got kids on the way, just to make this mess even better.” ****

“Shisui--” Itachi starts, but the Captain shuts him down almost immediately. ****

“If you tell me to calm down right now, I promise you that is not the result you will get,” he says, finally turning to face Itachi, a scowl tight across his lips. ****

“Forgive me for not seeing how you losing your temper will improve this situation,” Itachi retorts, his own anger starting to simmer, and Shisui looks at him incredulously. ****

“I’m sorry, are you _not_ upset?” he demands. “Considering you’re the one with the literal fiancee, I figured you’d be pretty pissed off about this whole arrangement.” ****

Itachi can’t help but feel stung by the statement, even if he knows logically that such a reaction is ridiculous and unfair. Attempting to speak as calmly as possible, he replies, “While faking a courtship is certainly not an ideal scenario given my particular circumstances, I would prefer to keep a clear head about all this in order to remove us from this position as soon as possible.” ****

Shisui snorts. “That’s great and all, but as the person who’s most likely to lose their job over this bullshit, I don’t exactly have the luxury of being even-keeled.” Some of the anger drains from his features, replaced by a look that’s far more anxious and vulnerable. “Do you know how hard I worked for this? How long I kicked around Starfleet dreaming of even having the _chance_ to get this far?” ****

Itachi’s expression softens. “You know I do,” he murmurs. There’s sympathy and understanding clear in the low tone of his voice, and it seems to pull most of the strained tension from Shisui’s frame. In seconds he moves from fury to resignation, deflating as he moves to sit on a weathered workout bench. For the time being Itachi continues to hover in the doorway, unsure of his place as he carefully watches Shisui’s reactions. ****

After a pause, his companion eventually says, “The worst part is, Ino’s right.” His gaze locks on his hands, loosely linked across his lap, in an attempt to avoid Itachi’s gaze as he continues, “Best chance we have of getting out this unscathed is to bite the bullet and give them what they want.” ****

“Unfortunately, I am inclined to agree with your assessment,” Itachi agrees reluctantly. “With any luck we will be able to gather our observations in a quick and efficient manner, and this duplicity will not last very long.” ****

“Yeah, when do we ever get that lucky, though.” Shaking his head, Shisui adds, “If we’re going to go through with this--and I cannot believe that we are--we should probably try and get our stories straight so we have even the slightest chance of convincing these people we’re in love.” ****

After spending months of hiding the intensity of his own affections from Shisui, the irony of this entire situation is as unthinkable to Itachi as it is agonizing. Swallowing thickly, Itachi tells him, “As this is not my area of expertise, I am content to keep quiet and follow your lead. Given that my people are incredibly private about our romantic relationships, I suspect that the less I say, the more believable our marriage will seem.” ****

“That’ll make it easy to avoid crossing any boundaries, then.” For a brief moment Itachi allows himself to contemplate exactly what boundaries Shisui is thinking of before he very quickly and sharply cuts that line of thinking off; something tells him that letting his mind wander in that particular direction can only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. “I hope this doesn’t cause any problems with your… y’know.” ****

The fact that Shisui cannot even bring himself to finish the sentence punches Itachi in the soft, brushed flesh of his heart. “Fortunately, at the moment my father has far more concerning issues to occupy his time,” he says darkly. “I highly doubt he will ever learn of this catastrophe.” ****

“Small mercies,” Shisui mutters. Keeping his eyes very purposefully directed away from Itachi he adds, in clear discomfort, “It’s pretty likely that this shit is going to get real awkward real fast.” ****

Silly as it seems, Itachi can feel the hint of a hot flush creeping along the curve of his neck as he considers the implications of that statement and exactly how far they’re going to have to go to keep this absurdity afloat. “Implying it hasn’t already,” he counters, to which Shisui has no reply. ****

Fed up with the Captain’s sour attitude and the distance between them, Itachi finally crosses the room and settles in the unoccupied space beside Shisui. The man makes no move to acknowledge his presence, so Itachi decides to confront the issue directly. “While I agree with your assessment that our situation will occasionally become rather… _unpleasant_ , I am confident that we will get through this mission just as we have gotten through every other mission before it.” Turning to face Shisui, he concludes, “Together.” ****

_Finally_ Shisui turns to look at him, his expression temporarily broken open and exposed. Such sentimentality quickly fades, though, as Shisui moves almost instantly to cover it with his usual protective sardonic humor. “Maybe we’re not so screwed after all,” he teases without feeling. “If you keep saying cheesy stuff like that people really _will_ think we’re a couple.” ****

After all the years they’ve spent in one another’s company Itachi is used to this type of banter from Shisui. While such comments would have once been fuel for the fire of his dislike and resentment, Itachi now understands with perfect clarity the difference between being mocked and being joked with. Usually he’s able to counter with a pithy, biting comment of his own, more than capable of holding his own against Shisui’s cutting wit. ****

This time, however, Itachi simply can’t bring himself to make a sound.

*

As it turns out, the principality of Pragma is absolutely delighted to welcome the Corvus to their world. The day after the disaster on deck Itachi, Shisui, and Ino are subjected to a mortifying wave from the Grand Elder of Pragma, the leader of the tiny planet, who positively gushed about the honor of celebrating such a young marriage. ****

“We are more than happy to accommodate you and your crew to ensure your life together begins in the best manner possible,” the woman explained, from beneath a layer of bright, thickly layered makeup and a collection of glimmering, multi-colored jewels.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary,” Shisui tried to explain, eyes widened in horror, but couldn’t get out another word before the Grand Elder cut him off.

“Please, we insist,” she said, and there was a sharp look in her eye that made it clear the matter was very much not up for debate. ****

And so, the crew of the Corvus prepared themselves as best as possible to enter the land of Pragma. A relatively untouched region of the universe, not much was known of the planet save for its exceptionally beautiful environment and landscape. Known as “the Blossom of the Beta Quadrant” because of its perpetual sunset skies and lush flora, the culture and history of its people remains a mystery, meaning it was impossible to know exactly what they were walking into. ****

Despite the secrecy surrounding the situation, it would seem that one member of the crew had an unexpected insider knowledge of the population. The morning they’re to land on Pragma Itachi is working in the Lab with Karin and Kabuto alongside him when Kabuto rather abruptly advises Itachi to watch his back. ****

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Karin asks, brows furrowed behind the wide frames of her glasses. “Aren’t the Pragmaens just glorified Risians?” ****

“Hardly,” Kabuto replies derisively. “The Pragmaens maintain a cover as a frivolous luxury planet to hide their most valuable export from the galaxy’s prying eyes: their vast army of highly intelligent and talented spies.” At Itachi and Karin’s combined incredulous silence, he explains, “How do you think such a small planet balanced so precariously on the border between the Federation and the Klingon Empire has managed to escape annexation? What they lack in visible military power they make up for with a prolific system of infiltration and information gathering.” ****

“Considering that the Federation has no data on this phenomenon, I am curious how you would know such a thing,” Itachi says, tone equal parts thoughtful and curious.

Kabuto shrugs, the movement boneless and unaffected. “Where I am from, nothing is more necessary than knowing one’s enemy.” ****

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Karin tells him, “One of these days you’re going to tell us how many secrets you’ve got and how you got them.” ****

“I would not count on it,” Kabuto retorts flatly. Despite his dismissal the statement continues to hang in the air, prickling at Itachi’s conscience. Over the years they’ve worked together he’s noticed and perhaps taken for granted Kabuto’s knowledge of various worlds. But up until now he’s never quite questioned where said knowledge comes from. Seeming to sense Itachi’s thought process, Kabuto steers the conversation back to its original topic. “Were I you, I wouldn’t let my guard down around these people; not everything is as it seems.” ****

“Is that a note of concern I detect in your voice?” Itachi asks dryly, though despite his teasing he’s oddly touched by the sentiment. ****

“Obviously,” Kabuto answers, dashing Itachi’s sentimentality when he elaborates, “Should you perish I will be left alone with Karin, meaning I have a vested interest in your continued survival.” ****

“ _Hey_ !” Karin snaps, glaring daggers at an unrepentant Kabuto. ****

“Perhaps you should be more worried about your own life,” Itachi notes, amused, and life continues unremarkably on. ****

Still, Itachi keeps Kabuto’s warning in the front of his mind as the Corvus breaches Pragma’s atmosphere. As the ship cuts through the faint silver clouds, he can see where the planet gets its adoring nickname from. The dusky rose of the sky is stunning, highlighted by streaks of burning orange and swirling lavender, and beneath their feet a thatch of navy blue trees stands beautiful and proud. If nothing else, at least they’ll have something beautiful to look at as their life falls to pieces. ****

“You ready for this?” Shisui asks him as they watch the entrance from the bridge. His expression grows increasingly pinched the closer they get to landing, to say nothing of the distance he’s maintained from Itachi since this whole fiasco began. ****

“I am fairly certain I have never been less ready for anything,” Itachi admits unhappily, a statement to which Shisui has no reply. His discomfort only grows as they land on Pragma and almost immediately encounter a disturbing large welcoming committee of Pragmaen politicians, dignitaries, and celebrities. Each person waits for a hungry and eager gleam in their eyes, and Itachi feels a twinge of guilt for their deception that is quickly overwhelmed by dread at the thought of what it’s going to take to maintain it. ****

The entire facade almost collapses immediately after it begins, as Shisui looks visibly startled when Itachi reaches for his hand as they approach the group. “To maintain appearances,” Itachi explains in a whisper, sliding his fingers through Shisui’s own and blocking out the snort of laughter Anko releases from behind them. ****

“Right,” Shisui replies in a strained tone, his hand tense and uncomfortable against Itachi’s, “good thinking.” ****

It feels as if they have entered the blood waters of hungry sharks as they meet the curious gaze of the gathered Pragmaens. At the center of it all stands Grand Elder Lotus in all her finery, and Itachi tries not to wilt or stumble under the intense focus of her golden eyes. “Welcome, my darling guests, to Pragma,” she greets them, arms open theatrically wide in a fashion that shows the width of her sleeve and the thick set of rings that lines each of her fingers. ****

“Thank you for having us,” Shisui counters diplomatically, sounding blessedly composed despite his turmoil, and Itachi nods in agreement. ****

The Grand Elder laughs, the sound rich and musical. “The honor is all ours. May we have the pleasure of showing you and your lovely crew to your home for the time being?” ****

“Lead the way,” Shisui says, and so they follow Lotus’ underlings to an outrageously-sized diamond of a building, all wide windows and curling ivy along the walls. ****

Behind them, Shikamaru whistles in appreciation and whispers to Chouji, “Damn, maybe they should get fake-married more often,” to which Ino punches him in the ribs so hard he nearly falls to the ground. Fortunately their guide is so far away that the sound doesn’t travel, but one absolutely murderous look from Shisui is all it takes to make sure their cover isn’t blown. The interior is no less opulent, but all the beautiful crystals and elegantly patterned-rugs in the world can’t take away from the ugliness of the situation. Such sights certainly cannot take away the rise of nausea inside Itachi as they’re shown their room and he very belatedly--and quite stupidly--realizes exactly what it will take to pull off this scheme. At the center of their suite is one very large bed, covered in fluffy pillows and fine silks, and Itachi stares at the furniture as if it has personally attacked them. ****

Having cottoned onto Itachi’s train of thought, Shisui waits until they’re away from prying eyes and curious ears to tell him, “There’s nothing to worry about; I was planning on sleeping on the floor.” ****

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Itachi retorts. “Given that we are both mature adults, I see no reason why we cannot simply share one bed for the next few days.” ****

“If you’re sure,” Shisui says, looking more than a little dubious about the concept. ****

“I am.” The truth is that Itachi couldn’t be any less sure of their current circumstances if he tried. But confessing such a weakness to Shisui would only lead to exposing the cause of his uncertainty, a decision that would no doubt wreak havoc on both of their lives. So Itachi stays silent, choosing instead to unpack the few belongings he’s brought with while blocking out the unsavory impulses that have started to flood through his mind at the prospect of their cohabitation. ****

Almost immediately after they’re settled into their new domain (at least, as settled as they can be, all things considered) a golden envelope arrives at their doorstep summoning them to a celebratory meal in their honor later in the evening. “Something tells me that woman won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Shisui mutters as he turns the feather-light invitation over in his hands. ****

“What could have possibly given you that impression?” Itachi asks dryly. ****

Groaning, Shisui crumbles the paper up into a ball and chucks it across the room. “How is this already so much worse than we thought it was going to be?” ****

There’s an irrationally childish part of Itachi that wants to ask exactly why the prospect of making a life together is so repulsive to Shisui, even though he knows that isn’t what the man’s issue truly is. It shouldn’t be so wounding considering this whole thing is a farce and there has never been a chance that they could have anything more than a professional partnership. But despite all the mental gymnastics Itachi has engaged to make this whole arrangement seem like yet another mission, it simply can’t be. It’s one thing to put himself in life-or-death situations for the sake and safety of the universe at large; it’s quite another to be forced to act out each and every one of his most private, unguarded hopes and dreams for public consumption. ****

“I will start preparing for the feast,” he announces, rather than reply to Shisui’s actual question, and locks himself in the bathroom to escape the unpleasant truth in front of him. ****

Despite the discordant atmosphere between himself and Shisui, Itachi is relieved to discover that the dinner is not nearly as terrible as he was expecting. The select Corvus residents who were chosen to come along on their superior’s humiliation tour are already seated at one of the room’s many tables, their expression a range of pity (Ino), boredom (Shikamaru), and menace (Anko, but also Kisame, only because “menace” tended to be his default expression). Tragically Itachi and Shisui were quickly brought to the Grand Elder’s side, meaning there was no relief from their deception to be found by sitting with their people. At the very least everyone is exceptionally polite, though admittedly more than a little nosey, and Itachi is content to sit with Shisui’s hand in his and sample the luxurious foods brought before them. ****

About halfway through the dinner, however, things take a rather unfortunate turn. “So,” the Grand Elder begins with an air of exaggerated importance, “you simply _must_ tell us the tale of how your romance began.” ****

Itachi momentarily pauses, his water halfway to his lips, but quickly recovers himself so as not to arouse suspicion. It occurs to him far too late that for all the things he prepared himself to experience actually being asked about his supposed relationship with Shisui was not one of them. Fortunately Shisui is a faster thinker than Itachi when it comes to such matters, and it’s not long before he replies, sweetly abashed, “It’s kind of an embarrassing story, actually.” ****

“All the best love stories are,” Lotus reassures him, unwilling to be deterred, and leans in eagerly as Shisui laughs. ****

“Well, it started back when we were in the Academy--for me, at least,” he amends wryly, looking more like himself than he has since they set foot on Pragma. “Back then Itachi couldn’t stand me, despite all my attempts to win him over, and I always regretted the fact that we parted on pretty shitty terms. Time passed, but I still thought of him a lot, and once I got my own ship it seemed only right to recruit him to my crew. Part of it was because I only wanted the best people working for me and Itachi was the smartest person I’d ever known. But I guess a selfish part of me always hoped we’d find a way to get along with each other, which just got stronger the more we worked together. And once we started getting along I just kept wanting more and more until...”

At that, he trails off, clearing his throat awkwardly, while Lotus stares in rapt attention. It isn’t until his chest begins to ache that Itachi realizes he hasn’t taken a breath the entire time Shisui has been speaking. He has no idea what his face must look like, can’t fathom what his expression becomes as Shisui abruptly finishes, “Anyway, one thing led to another and here we are.” ****

“Here you are,” she echoes, marvelling at the two of them. “What a lovely beginning to what will no doubt be a very happy life together. You must be so thrilled,” she adds, addressing Itachi directly, and he nods without thinking. ****

“Very,” he replies, tone hollow, and doesn’t say another word after that. ****

What remains of the feast passes by in a miserable blur. After what feels like an eternity of fake smiles and food that now tastes bitter Itachi quietly follows Shisui back to their quarters. Once they’re alone in the long, winding hallway leading back to their room Shisui drops Itachi’s hand as if it’s burned him, and Itachi can’t repress the flinch that arises at the gesture. ****

Annoyingly perceptive as always, Shisui picks up on the shift and softly explains, “No one’s around that we need to convince,” and it feels as if a bucket of Andorian ice-water has been dumped over Itachi’s head. ****

“Of course,” he agrees thickly, and the skin of his palm burns numbly the entire walk back to their shared room. ****

As they go through the motions of preparing for bed ( _to sleep together_ , Itachi’s mind unhelpfully reminds him), Itachi cannot get the absurdly detailed web Shisui wove at dinner out of his mind. Unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer, he remarks, “That was a very interesting tale you told at dinner.” ****

Shisui snorts as he digs through his clothes to find something to sleep in. “The trick to every good lie is to hide a kernel of truth in it.” Itachi raises an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, and is surprised by the way Shisui colors at the gesture. “I actually did have a pretty big crush on you when we were younger,” he admits, which is just about the _last_ thing Itachi is expecting to hear. ****

“You cannot be serious,” he counters, and Shisui laughs in response. ****

“Why do you think I was always trying to get your attention back then?” he asks. ****

“I didn’t know,” Itachi admits slowly, feeling as if he cannot get his tongue to work properly. ****

“You wouldn’t,” Shisui replies with a truly unfair amount of fondness, stunning Itachi into silence. That silence remains even as Shisui slips past him to enter the bathroom to take a shower and Itachi sinks into their shared bed. As he listens to the sound of water falling in the next room, he’s struck by just how desperately he hopes, against his better judgment, that maybe, just _maybe_ the rest of Shisui’s story is true, too.

*

Having never shared a room with another person before, let alone a bed, Itachi had no idea what living in a Pragmaen honeymoon suite with Shisui would entail. That in mind, he was certainly not prepared for the reality of the situation, which hits him rather abruptly when he wakes the next morning to find Shisui wrapped around him. ****

It feels like both heaven and hell to experience given that the only way such a thing could happen is because of intergalactic deception. For a moment Itachi lies entirely still, too afraid to move in the hopes of disrupting the fragile peace between them. He decides to take stock of everything he can feel while remaining in place: the cool spring air drifting in through the open windows; the sheets draped over them, warm with their combined body heat; the strength of Shisui’s muscles, obvious even when slack with sleep; and, of course, the weight of his arms around Itachi, caging him in along with the leg slotted between Itachi’s own. ****

After what seems like an eternity of wanting exactly this, Itachi can’t help but be unbearably curious about the image of the man sleeping behind him. With unfathomable caution, he carefully shifts so that he’s facing Shisui and exhales sharply as he does. Ever since realizing his attraction to Shisui Itachi has resigned himself to admiring the man in secret, confining himself to quick, illicit glances or long looks that could easily be disguised as professional interest. It’s an entirely different sensation to lie with him and take in the long sweep of his eyelashes and the sleep-soft set of his features, to watch openly and unhurried. A painfully familiar yearning constricts his chest as against his better judgement Itachi allows his mind to wander, gives himself permission to imagine what their lives could be if this moment wasn’t a complete sham, if there was a possibility that they could ever have such tender intimacy in their everyday lives.

Without thinking, Itachi reaches up and brushes an errant curl away from Shisui’s forehead, just as he’s pictured himself doing countless times before, and tamps down the way his heart aches. His emotions only feel more frazzled when, still trapped in the depths of sleep, Shisui murmurs, “ _Itachi_ ,” in a low, rough voice that leaves Itachi overheated and breathless. Blessedly, Shisui suddenly jerks away, turning back on Itachi in the process, giving him the perfect chance to escape into the bathroom for a very long (and very cold) shower. ****

When Itachi emerges many, many minutes later, freshly dressed and relatively composed, Shisui is just starting to blink the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you already awake?” he groans, tossing back the covers, and Itachi tries very hard not to think of picturesque domesticity between them less than an hour before. ****

“Not all of us prefer to live our lives in such a lazy and chaotic fashion,” Itachi replies, twisting his damp hair into a ponytail. ****

“You know, if you keep talking like that this marriage is going to go nowhere fast,” Shisui retorts, for a moment sounding like his typical sarcastic self until he catches sight of the way Itachi freezes. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t joke about this whole mess.” ****

“Why not?” Itachi counters, finally hitting his breaking point. “With all the things you have seen and done, is this really the worst experience you have had since taking command of the Corvus?” ****

“I guess not,” Shisui admits, a tad reluctant, and Itachi sighs. ****

“If all we must do on this mission is spend a ridiculous amount of time together while attempting to clean up the Federation’s messes then I am afraid I must inform you we do exactly that each and every single day.” ****

“Is this you telling me to suck it up?” ****

“Yes, Shisui. This is me telling you to ‘suck it up.’” ****

“Yes, dear,” Shisui replies, looking far too pleased with himself at Itachi’s flustered eyeroll. Despite his feigned irritation Itachi is actually relieved to have some of the oddness of the last few days cleared and the normalcy of their chemistry restored. It has him feeling much more optimistic about their chances of successfully ensnaring the Pragmaen’s loyalty as they head into what will no doubt be the first of many meetings with the Grand Council. The Councilroom is hardly a room at all, merely a set of elaborately carved marble pillars providing the thinnest of covers from the overgrown wilderness. Itachi feels a twinge of sympathy at the way Shisui’s eyes widen and redden as they sit in the heart of the jungle, valiantly battling his allergic reaction to the rainbow collection of flowers and trees around them, and without giving the action much thought slides his hand into his companion’s. This time Shisui doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react at all except to welcome Itachi’s touch as if he expected it, and a near-giddy fluttering moves through Itachi’s heart at the motion.

As the Grand Elder and her entourage sweep into the garden with characteristic melodrama, Itachi cannot help but remember Kabuto’s warning about the true currency of Pragma. The words lingered in his mind the evening before as he and Shisui were passed about the party like favors, pretty and entertaining yet also the objects of study and scrutiny. That feeling of being watched and perhaps found lacking as the native leaders settle around them and embark on discussing the real reason why the Corvus has been brought to this world. ****

“So, tell me, Captain,” Lotus begins as she pours a rich, red tea into a delicate clear goblet, “about this Federation that you prize so much.” ****

“What would you like to know?” Shisui counters sunnily, looking remarkably charming and at ease considering his pollen-swollen eyes. ****

The Grand Elder’s gaze turns hungry. “Everything.” ****

“The United Federation of Planets is an intergalactic alliance of various cultures, ideals, and species bound together by the mutual desire for peaceful, respectful exploration of our universe,” Itachi replies matter-of-factly. ****

“My, aren’t you cute,” the woman chuckles. “Like a little textbook with arms.”

“It’s very endearing,” Shisui agrees, biting back a smile when Itachi glares at him. ****

Shelving his irritation for the sake of the bigger picture, Itachi asks, “Forgive me if this is too forward of me to ask, but what is it that led you to reach out to Starfleet? It seems as if your planet has been exceptionally successful as an independent nation for many years. What has changed?” ****

Some of the brightness dims from the Elder’s line face. “Isn’t it obvious?” she retorts. ****

“The war,” Shisui says, and Lotus nods, her heavy, intensely-braided hair bouncing with the movement. ****

Turning her attention back to Itachi, she explains, “You are quite right in your assessment of us. My people have a history of being industrious, resourceful, and--most important--free. Certainly this is not the first squabble our world has caught wind of, but with each battle before we at least had the luxury of space. Unfortunately the territorial pissing contest between the Federation and the Empire has led to our little piece of solace shrinking more and more each year. And now, with all the slicing and dicing that’s been done to the universe, we find ourselves right in the line of fire.” ****

“You must resent our organization very much,” Itachi guesses, earning a haughty laugh from the woman across from him. ****

“Not at all,” she says. “If anything, I admire it. Niceties and pretty words are a lovely thing in practice, but they will never earn one a good life. Only power can do that.” ****

“That’s what all of this is about, then?” Shisui asks thinly. “You getting yours?” ****

Oddly enough, the accusation causes Lotus’ arrogant sneer to soften. “You have a pure heart,” she observes with the smallest of smiles. “I find that very admirable.” ****

“As do I,” Itachi replies, partially to pay Shisui back for his earlier comment but also because it’s the truth. Shisui coughs into his hand, ducking his head to cover the pink flush of embarrassment splashed across his cheeks, and Itachi fights a grin. ****

“Perhaps it is unfair of me, but I do not want you to think ill of me,” Lotus tells them. “Though my rationale may seem cold, please understand the position I am in. My people are mighty, yet small, and our army doesn’t compare to that of a vast space conglomerate or a fanatically violent warrior race. I am only doing what I must to protect my own.” ****

“I get that,” Shisui says, eyes darkening a bit, and Itachi squeezes his hand reassuringly. It shouldn’t be this easy, he thinks, to play the part of the doting partner, someone who is open with his affection and dedication, and yet it already feels like second nature to Itachi. ****

“Oh, I know you do. It’s part of the reason why I find myself growing fond of you, Captain.” ****

“I would advise against complimenting him too highly, Grand Elder,” Itachi interjects dryly. “He has a troubling tendency to suffer from rapid swelling of the head when given too much praise.” ****

Narrowing his eyes, Shisui retorts, “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to your husband.” ****

“It very well might,” Itachi counters. ****

“Ah, young love,” Lotus sighs wistfully, and not for the first time Itachi worries they’re playing their parts a little _too_ well. Clapping her hands together in a moment of sudden dramatics, she blurts out, “That reminds me! Tomorrow evening we will be hosting the second portion of your marriage celebration. I regret to tell you that there will be some work for you to do, but try not to fret about it too much. Our treasurer of tradition will be more than happy to educate you on the details later in the day.” ****

“That’s nice and all, but it really isn’t necessary. You’ve already shown us plenty of hospitality so far,” Shisui begins, clearly uncomfortable, but the Grand Elder dismisses his concerns with a single sweep of her finely manicured hand. ****

“Nonsense!” she insists. “In such dark times we must cling to the little light we can find in this world.” ****

“We would be honored,” Itachi replies, to which Lotus gives a throaty chuckle. ****

“I can see who wears the pants in your relationship,” she notes, and to his credit Shisui doesn’t even deny it. ****

All in all, the meeting is a significantly less painful experience than Itachi was prepared for, and his relief leads to a pleasant mood that lingers with him as he and Shisui meet the Corvus crew for a sunset brunch. Returning to his comrades has the same feel as slipping on a perfectly worn pair of shoes. It’s a blessing to shrug off their increasingly intricate facade and join the people that know and love them best. Ino and Kisame are easily the most happy at their arrival, while Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kabuto look relatively unaffected. ****

Anko, meanwhile, greets them with a knowing, nasty grin, her expression made all the more worrying framed by the shadows of the dim lighting around them. “Well, well, well,” she drawls, “if it isn’t the happy couple themselves.” ****

“Give a rest,” Shisui orders, plopping into the unoccupied seat across from her. Though there’s no one in sight for them to fool, he keeps an arm slung over the back of Itachi’s chair in a puzzling display of ownership Itachi tries not to think about too hard. ****

“So,” Ino begins enthusiastically, “how did it go?” ****

Given that Shisui has decided to occupy himself by gorging on expensive fruits and unusually scented cheeses, Itachi sighs and decides to tell the tale himself. It’s a relatively boring recap of the Grand Elder’s interrogation made only the tiniest bit painful by Anko’s snarking, but by the end blessedly no one is left worse for the wear. ****

Once finished Anko snorts and retorts, “They’re throwing you _another_ party? God, you bitches are expensive. If I knew this kind of royal treatment was in store I would have had Blondie tell then I was married to the fish.” ****

“I am a luxury few can afford,” Kisame says, nodding sagely. ****

“Yeah, we’re not going to unpack that one,” Shikamaru mutters around a mouthful of some over-stuffed, buttery pastry. ****

“Hey, you think it’s easy having a fake husband?” Shisui asks, indignant. “I, for one, am exhausted.”

“Ooh, yeah. You must be so tired from your long nights of lying about your budding courtship,” Anko snickers. ****

“Don’t start,” Shisui warns her. ****

“So, it hasn’t been terrible so far?” Ino asks hopefully. “You can stop blaming me for ruining your life now?” ****

Smiling at her fondly, Shisui tells her, “You are officially my favorite again.”

“Shouldn’t your beloved over there be your favorite?” Sakura questions from her seemingly permanent residence at Ino’s side. ****

“See, backtalk like that is the reason you will never be the favorite.” ****

“Oh, no. How will I ever survive?” she asks dryly. ****

“Kids these days,” Shisui mutters, and Itachi pats his shoulder in sympathy. ****

“After all we did to raise them well,” he replies agreeably. ****

Steering the conversation in a more productive direction, Kisame asks, “So, what even is this ‘traditional cultural’ thing you guys have to do?” ****

“No idea,” Shisui admits cheerfully, “but whatever it is it can’t be too bad, right?” ****

In an usual moment of uncharacteristic pity, Anko stares at him and says, “You really never learn, do you?” ****

Shisui, as it turns out, does not.

*

“This is fucking insane,” he bemoans later in the day and certainly not for the first time as he sits cross-legged on their shared bed. Itachi is perched a careful distance away from him, a distance that gets quite a bit smaller when Shisui leans into his personal space to all but shove the ancient, yellowing parchment that was delivered to them earlier in Itachi’s face. “Seriously, what the hell _is_ this?” ****

“I believe it is a series of diagrams,” Itachi answers, lips curling in amusement at the way Shisui glares at him. Focusing on the humor of the situation is the only one Itachi can live with the knowledge that the “traditional cultural thing,” as Kisame put it, that they are expected to perform is an elaborate dance designed to summon happiness, loyalty, and--entirely unhelpful to them--fertility. While Itachi has resigned himself to the spectacle as yet another absurdity summoned up by their terrible predicament, his partner in crime had reacted with significantly less tolerance. ****

“Smartass,” Shisui mutters, giving the paper another hearty shake for emphasis. “Laugh it up all you want, but don’t forget: if I go down I’m taking you with me.” ****

“Perhaps you should have informed me you were so unskilled in the art of dance before our fake wedding,” Itachi quips, and the look Shisui throws at him is pure offense. ****

“I resent that!” he cries. “For your information, I am an _excellent_ dancer. It’s just that _this_ is a human rights violation.” ****

“Of course it is,” Itachi replies mildly, which seems to be the last straw for Shisui. ****

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this slander,” Shisui declares, jumping off the bed and sticking out a hand. “If you won’t take me at my word--which is a terrible quality, by the way--then I’m just going to have to prove it to you.” ****

Itachi stares at his outstretched palm, unenthused. “Must I?” ****

“You must,” Shisui says immediately, and with a sigh Itachi rises to meet him. ****

Over the last few years, Itachi has come to accept and expect physicality from Shisui, even if, because of his upbringing and his personal feelings for the man, he’s never fully relaxed into it. A hand placed on his shoulder, a good-natured elbow against his ribs--such gestures have become routine to Itachi by this point in his life. That said, such touches are worlds away from the way Shisui laces their fingers together and rests his palm against the dip of Itachi’s lower back to reel him in. They’re close enough that Itachi can smell the traces of soap against his skin and sweet wine on his lips, and he swallows thickly at the intimacy of it all. ****

“I believe there is usually music played during moments such as this,” he remarks, mortified by the rasp in his voice. ****

Shisui laughs, the sound rich as a warm, winter drink. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he chides, leaning in to rest his cheek faintly against Itachi’s own. ****

Despite his usual discomfort with such closeness, it’s a terribly simple thing to lean into the heat of Shisui’s body and move in step with him. With each spin and turn his reservations and anxieties melt away. His concerns about his family, his future, his career disappear, leaving only Itachi, the clear and uncomplicated version of himself he can be when he’s with Shisui. ****

After what feels like an eternity of silence, Shisui presses impossibly closer and murmurs, “You know, it’s a good thing this shitshow is happening now that you tolerate me; I can’t imagine how we’d pull this off if it was back when you still hated me.” ****

“I did not hate you,” Itachi retorts automatically, defensive on principle. It seems like an entire lifetime has passed since the age where Itachi regarded Shisui with suspicion and dislike, so long ago that he can hardly imagine it had ever happened. But the memories remain, and Itachi winces at the reminder of where their partnership began. “... Maybe I hated you,” he admits quietly, almost embarrassed by the statement. ****

Abruptly Shisui pulls back and the loss of his weight nearly causes Itachi to stumble. Levelling Itachi with an unreadable expression, he asks, unspeakably gentle, “Well, what about now? How do you feel about me these days?” ****

Itachi swallows, feeling as if all the air has been snatched from his lungs. “I suppose that, these days…” It would be so easy, he thinks, to seize this moment, to lean in and press their lips together. It would be so easy to reply, in a fragile, honest whisper, _I love you._ ****

Instead Itachi does neither, choosing as always to take the coward’s way out by lamely finishing, “I tolerate you.” ****

Shisui blinks and the mood surrounding them punctures like a leaky balloon, all the tenderness and yearning from seconds before disappearing into the atmosphere. “You can’t imagine how flattered I am,” he says, and Itachi battens down the cold stone forming in his chest at the response. ****

After that, their half-hearted practice continues long into the night and through much of the next day. While it never feels as pleasant as it did at the start, Itachi pushes forward, driven more for his need to perfect a new skill than by the ache in his heart. By the time nightfall has touched down and they’re entering the elegant ballroom Itachi is almost convinced they won’t make complete and utter fools of themselves. ****

A nauseous sense of deja vu claims him as they move through the crowds, illuminated by fairy lights and the flickering of candles. Karin had been correct to compare Pragma to Risa, the two cultures so similar it was impossible to think of one without considering the other. Their current situation reminds him of how, just two years ago, Itachi found himself in a place just like this, admiring Shisui from afar and denying everything second of it. He remembers the end of that night, how he stood on the cool Risian stand and stared at Shisui, waiting for something he could not name and hoping for something he would not admit. So much time has passed and yet Itachi is exactly the same--watching, waiting. ****

Wanting. ****

At first, their odd song and dance routine actually continues without a hitch. Though their reenactment of the Pragmaen sequence is nowhere near perfect, Shisui and Itachi manage to at least perform well enough to keep from offending the crow surrounding them. Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of their crew, curiously observing the scene before them. Were it any other situation Itachi could laugh at the disaster of it all, but currently he’s too focused on maintaining their facade to picture how bizarre they must look together. ****

Once the dancefloor is cleared and it’s time to mingle, Itachi prefers to let Shisui take control of the conversation swirling all around him. As always, he’s handsome and gregarious and endearing, drawing in each member of the Pragmaen upper class like a moth to the flame, and while Itachi would like to begrudge them for such behavior he’s the worst victim of all when it comes to Shisui’s charms. ****

All in all, everything is going surprisingly well until about hours later the mood in the room suddenly… turns. The two of them have cut themselves off from the rest of the hall's population, desperate for a break from their storytelling, when Shisui suddenly frowns. “I don’t think they buy it,” he murmurs, and Itachi glances over his shoulder to take in the Grand Elder’s expression. Her gaze is intense, calculating, and Itachi feels as if he’s being pulled apart piece by piece by that golden focus. ****

“I am afraid I must agree with that assessment,” he replies, brows knitting together. “What do you suggest we do?” ****

Shisui says nothing, and the silence drags on long enough that Itachi finally pulls back to look at him. The Captain is staring at him, features tight and pained, and a chill works its way down Itachi’s spine at the sight. Finally, Shisui asks, “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do,” Itachi tells him, not even pausing to consider the question. It isn’t necessary, not when he’s known the answer for so long now. ****

“Okay,” he breathes, resolute, and leans in to cover Itachi’s lips with his own. ****

Though he’s desired this for what feels like an eternity, Itachi has spent shockingly little time imagining what such a gesture would actually be like. Having never given much thought to matters like attraction and mating until he was pulled into Shisui’s orbit, his experience in such an area is shamefully limited. Perhaps it’s a blessing that Shisui’s, from the numerous raunchy stories Anko has told, is most certainly _not_ , a fact he demonstrates almost immediately. It’s almost painful the way Shisui handles him, as if Itachi is some priceless gift he couldn’t bear to break. What hurts most of all is the knowledge that none of it is real, that it’s all just a sick joke to appease people who will never even know them, but the worst part is that Itachi almost doesn’t care; at this point in his life, he’s content to take what he can get. ****

Kissing Shisui reminds Itachi of the moment the Corvus first took flight, how his body felt weightless and free, the dizzying way his head spun and his insides plummeted as they burst into the night sky. Feeling dangerously lightheaded, Itachi wraps his arms around Shisui for support and fists the cloth against his back. Even now Shisui understands him perfectly and slips an arm around his waist to hold him steady. His other hand makes its way into Itachi’s hair, carefully tilting his head into a more comfortable angle. Without warning his fingers tighten, pulling at Itachi’s previously immaculate ponytail, and a groan escapes Itachi’s lips at the motion. It’s good, far too good given where they are and who they are, a fact that must not escape Shisui’s mind as he almost immediately pulls away from Itachi. ****

He’s breathing heavy, eyes wide and wild, his mouth swollen and red, and Itachi can’t bear to look away from him. “Itachi,” Shisui starts, the word ragged, but doesn’t continue. Frankly, Itachi isn’t sure he wants to hear what’s next. ****

“Forgive me, but I believe I need air,” he says, then turns on his heel to dash out of the room before Shisui can even respond. ****

There’s rain on the horizon, meaning the evening air is damper than it's been since they landed. Rather than the usual soft, rosy pink the sky is the color of old blood with clouds that shape of deep, dark bruises, as if the natural world itself was designed to reflect Itachi’s terrible mood. On the ballroom’s adjacent balcony he stands near the edge taking quick, shallow breaths in a feeble attempt at calming his own heart rate. Try as he might he can’t scrub the memory of Shisui’s against his or the taste of the man’s lips out of his mind. His eyes screwed tightly shut, it’s easy for Itachi’s otherwise keen senses to miss the fact that he has company. ****

“Having fun yet?” Of course it’s the absolute last voice Itachi wants to hear in his current turmoil, a fact he’s certain must show on his face as he turns to face Anko. ****

“Given that you are not actually as stupid as you pretend to be, I’m fairly certain you are aware that I am not,” he replies thinly. ****

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” she counters. It occurs to Itachi that for once she’s not wearing her usual mocking, devil-may-care smirk. This time the set of her features is cold and deadly serious. A buzzing worry flares in his chest as the woman walks closer to him and says, “You know, if you were anyone else, I might give you the benefit of the doubt and tread lightly. But considering it’s you I’m just going to be straight and ask you what the fuck it is you think you’re doing?” ****

“I beg your pardon?” Itachi demands, squaring his shoulders for battle as Anko stops less than a foot in front of him. “Last time I checked, as your superior officer I don’t owe you a single explanation regarding my choices.” ****

“You do when those choices involve sucking face with my best friend.” ****

“And why should that concern you? Were you not the one that found this whole miserable occurrence so incredibly delightful?” ****

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she snaps. “There is a difference between putting on a show to convince the locals and whatever the hell it is I just saw you do on that dancefloor.” An odd remorse flares inside Itachi as he contemplates the implication of those words. Of course, the sensation is quickly stamped out when Anko leans impossibly close to him and hisses, “Over the years you and I haven’t always communicated super well, so this time I’m going to speak my peace loud and clear. Keep stringing him along like this, and I guarantee that Starfleet Command will be the _least_ of your problems.” ****

Brows raised in disbelief, he asks, “Are you threatening me?”

“Why, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Suddenly Anko grins, wide and sharp as daggers, and Itachi represses a shudder as she vows, “This is me promising you.” Just as quick as she appeared Anko vanishes, leaving Itachi with only his regrets and the empty beauty of the pastel sky to keep him company.

*

Shisui doesn’t return to their shared room until dawn, quietly shuffling inside in the hopes of not waking Itachi. It’s a meaningless kindness, as Itachi is lying wide awake in their massive bed, feigning sleep to avoid the conversation he knows they must have. He had sat up from hours before, limbs curled in a tight ball, waiting for Shisui to walk through the door so they could finally discuss what exactly it was they were to each other. But the moment he heard the knob turning he had ducked beneath the sheets and screwed his eyes shut, taking the easy way out to protect his own heart. ****

By the time Shisui is sliding in to join him Itachi’s muscles are aching from the effort he’s put into remaining so still. Somehow he manages to tense up even further once Shisui drapes an arm across his waist and moves closer, close enough to rest his forehead against Itachi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, lips brushing against his skin, and Itachi desperately wants to know what exactly it is he’s sorry _for_ . Despite his burning curiosity, Itachi doesn’t say a word, instead forcing himself into a restless sleep. ****

When he wakes in the morning he’s surprised to see that their roles are reversed: for once Shisui is the one who’s risen early and is nowhere to be found inside their suite. Itachi smooths a hand over the empty spot beside him and is disappointed to find it cool; wherever Shisui is, it would appear he’s been gone for quite some time. Already feeling drained after just moments of consciousness, Itachi forcibly drags himself from the nest of covers and stumbles into the bathroom with the hopes of washing away the mess from the previous evening. ****

Beneath the shower’s spray, Itachi can finally admit, at least to himself, what folly this entire situation has been. It had been a foolish notion to think he could ever successfully perform such an emotionally charged role, a belief that was hopelessly naive at best and genuinely self-destructive at worst. When signing up for Starfleet so many years ago, Itachi had resigned himself to the possibility of being subjected to many things. The threat of injury, kidnapping, death--such things were known unknowns, life-alternating moments that could and probably would happen to him at some point in his career. But not once did Itachi ever contemplate that he would experience an event such as this, one that is rapidly beginning to feel as if he has put his own heart through a paper shredder. Then again, Itachi suspects there is no way he ever could have predicted that he would fall in love with Shisui and what the consequences of that radical shift in his perspective would be. ****

Not for the first time, Itachi wishes, with a fierce desperation, that his mother was still alive. There hasn’t been a single day since her passing where he has not thought of their final, fateful conversation and the way she had encouraged him to live his own life. As lovely a sentiment as it was, the prospect of actually honoring her last wish feels utterly impossible to Itachi, a creature bred and molded out of fealty and dedication. It was easy for Itachi to wish for freedom, and it was perhaps easy for Mikoto to gift such a thing to her eldest son. But to actually seek such a thing out, to break from all he’s ever known and all that’s ever been expected of him, was absolutely terrifying. ****

Even if Itachi had never truly wanted the life that was designed for him, he still feels beholden to it, compelled to honor the responsibilities bestowed upon him. And so, though such an action would probably appear irrational and indecipherable to anyone but him, Itachi cannot bring himself to step off the path that has been designed for him. While that life might bring him unhappiness, it was at least predictable and, in a way, safe. Such an unremarkable existence was the exact opposite of everything he feels for Shisui, miles away from the wild, uncontrollable passion that seems to run counter to each and every single one of Itachi’s deeply-held Vulcan convictions. ****

As always, Itachi finds himself attempting to maintain an unforgiving balance, trying to equalize the human and Vulcan halves of himself. But now more than ever it seems as if that delicate equation has been thrown terribly out of whack, leaving Itachi lost and hopelessly confused. All that he can be sure of is that this charade and his own part in it has gone much too far. Painful as it may be, it was time to pull back and remind himself that this was just another mission, a fantasy constructed on lies and pragmatism. He and Shisui were not lovers, as much as Itachi’s traitorous heart wishes they were. In the end, they were not anything at all. ****

By the time Itachi’s emerged from the universe’s most morose shower Shisui has returned, sitting on their bed and looking decidedly worse for wear. Given the pattern of Shisui’s moods Itachi doubts he slept much, had instead dragged himself from their shared room to engage in early morning coffee and self-pity. His gaze is guilty and flighty as it means Itachi’s own, immediately souring the atmosphere between them, and Itachi finds himself holding his breath as Shisui speaks. “Lotus dragged me out of bed for another dumbass meeting a few hours ago. Surprised I didn’t wake you.” ****

“I had not noticed,” Itachi replies. “What did you discuss?” ****

“Nothing all that important, just more flowery bullshit about love and honor. But she wants to have another meeting with us and the crew later today, so I’m pretty sure she’s going to announce her decision about the Federation, meaning we can finally get the fuck off this planet.” ****

“We should only be so lucky.” His mind still blurry with emotion, it takes Itachi an unfortunate amount of time to notice the long, plush red box clenched between Shisui’s fingers. Frowning, Itachi can’t help but ask, “What is that?” ****

Somehow Shisui’s already tense expression manages to tighten even more. “Yet another gift from our charitable patron,” he says as he reaches to hand the object to Itachi. With dread crawling along his spine Itachi carefully lifts the lid, his stomach twisting as he takes in the sight of a delicate silver chain with a large ruby pendant in the center. It’s beautiful and yet also impossibly ugly to Itachi because of what it represents. His reaction only grows sicker as Shisui explains, “Apparently it’s traditional here for newlyweds to exchange necklaces like that. She thought it was a nice way of showing my appreciation for you.” ****

“These people have far too many traditions regarding their romantic relationships,” Itachi comments tonelessly, unable to take his eyes off the piece of jewelry. It’s as if the shining metal is mocking him directly, laughing at him for his stupid, selfish desires. Though he wants to toss the accursed thing across the room, Itachi understands what’s being asked of him. Carefully slipping the necklace from its case, he loosens the clasp and slips it around his neck. Because the life he lives is profoundly unfair, Itachi of course stumbles in the task and Shisui is forced to rescue him, getting impossibly close to Itachi to complete the task for him. His fingers brush Itachi’s neck as he moves his damp hair out of the way, and Itachi can’t hold back the shudder the gesture provokes in him. The stone hanging below his collarbone feels far larger, heavy with the weight of his longing, and the sensation only worsens the longer Shisui remains impossibly close to him. ****

“Well, Ino did say kissing and telling was a pretty big part of their culture,” Shisui eventually quips, far too late to be humorless and exceptionally uncomfortable in light of their current circumstances. Matters only worsen when Shisui begins, uncharacteristically hesitant, “Speaking of that… about last night...” ****

“There is nothing to discuss. We merely did what we needed to in order to preserve our cover,” Itachi replies, the words cold and blunt. Speaking more to himself than Shisui he declares, “It was meaningless.” ****

“Oh.” The moment Itachi hears the sound of Shisui’s voice, impossibly small and sad, he regrets speaking with such finalty. But there’s not taking back his harsh words, as in just seconds Shisui is backing away from him with the speed of a wounded animal, and the air around Itachi suddenly feels much icier without his presence. “No, yeah, you’re right. It was nothing.” ****

Hearing Itachi’s own thoughts echoed in Shisui’s speech somehow makes the sentiment even worse. Hoping to clear the air, Itachi decides to pivot back to the only topic that feels safe right now. “You mentioned that the Grand Elder was expecting us,” he begins, finally turning to face Shisui and taking great pains to ignore the miserable look the man is currently wearing. “Shall we go?” ****

“After you,” Shisui says, and Itachi ducks out almost immediately, eager for escape. ****

Rather than meeting in the radiant garden that functions as the Grand Elder’s meeting room, Itachi is surprised to find they are directed towards a massive, dimly-lit underground chamber. “Why do I get the feeling this won’t turn out well?” Shisui whispers, and though his tone is dry the concern is clear on his features. The Corvus crewmembers that have accompanied them to Pragma are seated in stands high above, like spectators in an ancient colosseum, while Shisui and Itachi are led towards a set of elaborately carved golden chairs. Left without precious few options, Itachi follows Shisui’s head and drops into one of the thrones, not so patiently waiting for their fate to be revealed. ****

Just minutes later Grand Elder Lotus appears, draped in thick layers of cloth and makeup, and stands with her army of helpers before them. Her expression is indecipherable and the odd set of her features puts Itachi on edge without moments of glimpsing her. A quick look at Shisui tells him that the man is feeling much the same, his lips pressed tightly together as he watches Lotus stop in front of them. “Hello, my lovely guests,” she starts, a strange smile crossing her face. “I believe that today is the last day you will be staying with us, is that correct?” ****

“It is, Grand Elder,” Itachi confirms, his voice blessedly even considering his wariness, and the woman brightens. ****

“While we shall be very sad to see you go, we would like to honor your final moments with us with the greatest gift we can bestow upon you.” ****

“Which would be…?” Shisui presses, more than a little suspicious. ****

“A ceremony to commemorate your union,” she elaborates, and Itachi is concerned by the sparkle that suddenly fills her eyes. “Our people believe that love is a prize to be shared with our community, which is why new marriages are celebrated with many of the beautiful things you’ve experienced so far--food, dance, the like. But as marriage is about the joining of two souls and two bodies, the ultimate sacrament is the Ritual of Eros, which involves an act of public intimacy between the newlyweds.” ****

Itachi has a single second to process exactly how insane this all is all the world around them seems to freeze in time. It would almost be funny, were it not so painfully and incredibly terrible. “Public intimacy?” Shisui eventually shrieks. Turning to Itachi with horror in his eyes, he repeats, slightly hysterical, “ _Public intimacy_?” ****

Sighing heavily, Itachi decides to end this disaster once and for all. “I believe this farce has gone on long enough,” he says, turning his attention to the woman across from him. “Grand Elder, I am afraid that we must confess something to you. In our earlier conversations, it was communicated to you that the Captain and myself were wed, but I regret to inform you that is not the case.” ****

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe it,” Anko calls out from the crowd, completely deadpan, and the look Ino gives her could melt glaciers. ****

Ignoring her, Itachi continues, “Believe me when I say that we intended zero offense towards you or your people. We are more than aware of the traditions you hold dear, and because of this we did not want to dishonor your beliefs or give you a negative impression of the Federation.” ****

“So you lied, then,” the Grand Elder flatly concludes, her heavily-lined eyes narrowing, and Itachi is almost positive the rest of this day is destined to go poorly. ****

“Not at first,” Shisui says defensively. ****

“But every moment after that?” she asks. ****

Wincing, he replies, “Little bit, yeah.” ****

“I see.” A long, quiet moment descends over the area. When the Grand Lotus finally reaches her decision, her voice is unnerving devoid of emotion. “Very well. It would seem we have no choice. For your deception you must engage in an act of ceremonial combat--” ****

“This cannot get any worse,” Shisui cuts in. ****

“--where you will fight to the death,” she finishes, and Itachi glares at the Captain. ****

“You just had to say it, didn’t you?” he hisses, and Shisui’s answering shrug is sheepish. ****

“Go, Itachi! Kick his ass.” Kisame calls out from the crowd. Chagrin crosses his face as both Itachi and Shisui stare at him, and he adds, with great feeling, “Sorry, Cap’n. Nothing personal.” ****

“Thanks, bud. That really means a lot,” Shisui yells back sarcastically. Exhaling sharply, he takes just a second to steel himself before he tells the Grand Lotus, “Look, if you really want to punish us, you don’t need all this gladiator shit to do it. Just take me and leave him out of this.” ****

“ _Shisui_!” Itachi cries, absolutely horrified, but it does nothing to wipe away Shisui’s determined gaze. ****

Lotus stares at him. “You would give your life for his, then?” ****

“Yes,” Shisui answers without hesitation, and Itachi’s world feels as if it’s spinning. ****

The Grand Elder hums, thoughtful, before replying, “As I said before, Captain, I admire your spirit.” All at once her face seems to change, her grim exterior shifting into something darkly amused. Before Itachi can even question what has happened she grins and says, “In the face of your selflessness I suppose I should admit that I’ve been aware of your deception since the moment I met you.” ****

“ _What_?” Shisui snaps, his furious exclamation the only sound in the silently shocked room, and Itachi feels the same anger down to his bones.

Abruptly he remembers Kabuto’s warning about Pragma’s spycraft and mentally kicks himself for not listening to the Cardassian. Of course they knew that he and Shisui weren’t married; frankly Itachi wouldn’t be surprised if they knew everything about the both of them, including Itachi’s sham engagement, and shame churns in his gut. “Then why subject us to all of your inane mating rituals?” he demands hotly. ****

“Oh, none of those are actually Pragmaen traditions,” she explains flippantly, waving a hand as if to whisk away such an absurd notion. “I was merely testing you.” ****

Narrowing his eyes, Shisui asks, “And why would you do that?” ****

“Why else?” she retorts. “To see how far you would go. I was curious at the depths of dedication the Federation inspired in its people, and the two of you certainly didn’t disappoint.” Suddenly some of the haughtiness drifts from her face and she adds, softer, “I am sorry to toy with you, but please, at least take comfort in the fact that you have made my decision an easy one. After getting to know your crew, I would be honored to accept the Federation’s invitation and offer my world’s vast resources in your war efforts.” ****

Up until now, Itachi did not know that victory could taste so bittersweet. But the sensation stays with him as they begin the process of returning to the Corvus, along with the Grand Elder’s final words as she pulls him into a reluctant embrace. Speaking so that only Itachi will hear her, the woman whispers, almost mournfully, “For the record, I think you made a lovely couple.” ****

And the most terrible part of all is that Itachi can’t bring himself to disagree with her.

*

In the wake of the fake marriage debacle, life on the Corvus returns to the abnormal normal the crew has established over the previous months. ****

With Shisui having essentially sworn the people who were witness to their public humiliation to a vow of silence, Itachi isn’t surprised that their little performance never managed to reach the ship’s rumor mill. The lack of traction may also be traced back to Ino, as she’s both responsible for the majority of the ship’s gossip and also willing to put any person who mocks her commanding officers’ dire straits in the hospital. ****

Despite his attempts to put the terrible business behind him, Itachi can’t quite shelve the memories of what transpired on Pragma. The feel of Shisui’s skin against his own still burns in Itachi’s mind, irrepressible in spite of all his effort. It doesn’t help that Shisui has continued on as if nothing has changed between them, as friendly and fond as ever as they go through the daily routine. But Itachi can’t muster up the energy to fully participate in his bickering, and it feels as if the world has suddenly shifted off its axis. ****

It’s a relief when, days later, Asuma returns to them. He looks tired on every possible level, muscles limp and lids heavy, but still manages to muster up a smile as he steps aboard the bridge. In seconds Ino throws her arms around him, and it’s sweet to see Asuma respond, gently patting her on the back. Chouji quickly follows suit and from across the room Shikamaru looks equally as moved, yet too emotionally uptight to join in on the group hug. “It’s good to see you, too,” Asuma says as the two move away, still looking at Asuma as if he hung the sun itself. Turning his attention to Itachi and Shisui, he asks, “Did I miss anything good?” ****

Shisui eyes Ino, suddenly abashed at the shift in conversation, and smirks. “Nothing at all,” he replies easily, to the Betazoid’s shock, and quickly moves to discuss a different topic. ****

Seeing Ino’s reaction reminds Itachi of a nagging suspicion he’s had since the beginning of the Pragma affair. Deciding to finally answer the question that has been flitting about his mind for the last week, he privately requests for Ino to take a walk with him. As they stroll the halls of the Corvus, there’s a moment where Itachi almost feels guilty for thinking ill of his comrade. But he pushes past it and eventually says, “There is something I have been meaning to ask you about.” After carefully considering how to proceed with the discussion, he eventually settles on, “Ino, in my opinion you are an incredibly gifted and intelligent young woman.” ****

Ino turns to look at him, puzzled, and replies, “That’s not exactly a question, but thanks, I guess?” ****

“Given my high regard for your character and your talent for linguistics, I find it a bit difficult to picture you making such a simple yet potentially dangerous mistake that could compromise the lives of your crewmembers.” ****

Laughing awkwardly, Ino asks, “Well, no one’s perfect, right?” ****

“Officer Yamanaka,” Itachi begins sternly, “would you like to tell me why you intentionally told our hosts that Shisui and I were married and why you lied to us about doing so?” ****

Abruptly Ino stops walking and whirls on Itachi, eyes wide and brows raised. “What? Why would you ever think that I would--” Itachi simply stares at her, completely unmoved, and once it’s clear she isn’t getting the reaction she’s looking for Ino sighs and admits, “Okay, yeah, fine. I made the whole thing up.” Unable to come up with a response, Itachi simply stares at her, and she frowns in return. “So, when did you figure it out?” ****

“It took longer than I would care to confess,” Itachi tells her. “I had mild suspicions as soon as you informed me of your so-called ‘mistake,’ yet I chastised myself for doubting you. It was not until the Grand Elder admitted she knew of our deception that I was certain she was not the only one being deceived.” ****

“In my defense, I was just trying to help,” Ino insists. ****

“‘Help?’” he parrots. “How in the world does forcing me to fake a marriage to my commanding officer qualify as helping me?” ****

“Because you’re in love with him!” she cries, arms flailing, and for about the thirtith time this week Itachi feels as if his feet are no longer touching the ground. “And he’s in love with you, too, but neither one of you is doing _anything_ about it!” ****

Itachi opens his mouth to respond, but not a single sound comes out. This time it’s Ino’s turn to stare at Itachi, black eyes burning into him, and he can’t bear to meet her intense focus. Eventually, he reprimands, “Even if that were the case--which it is most certainly _not_ \--I fail to see why you thought it was acceptable to meddle in my personal affairs like this.” ****

Ino is shaking her head before Itachi even finishes, which is more than a little infuriating. Things only worsen when she replies, “Look, I know it’s not my business, and normally I try to keep the things I learn because of my powers under wraps, but this was different.” Some of the indignant passion drains from Ino’s lovely face and she gently tells him, “The Captain’s always been good to me when I’ve asked for his advice, and after everything that happened with your mom I just… I wanted you both to be happy.”

Despite his irritation Itachi can’t help but find her misbegotten attempts at fixing his pathetic life oddly touching. “That is both very sweet yet also incredibly presumptuous and irresponsible,” he says, though not unkindly. “While I, in theory, appreciate your efforts, I am afraid you have put in an exceptional amount of work for nothing. Shisui and I have a close friendship, yes, but for a variety of reasons we do not share anything more than that.” ****

“But--” ****

“There is no ‘but;’ Shisui has made it quite clear that he does not view me in such a way.” Itachi thinks of their last morning on Pragma, of Shisui’s quietly heartbroken voice, and doesn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that he’s wrong. “And even if he did it would not matter, as per the customs of Vulcan culture I was promised to another at a very early age.” ****

“What?” Ino snaps, seemingly horrified. “You can’t seriously--” ****

“I can,” Itachi cuts in firmly, “and I will.” The disbelief on Ino’s face, as if he’s personally offending her by ruining his own chance at happiness, forces Itachi to look away from her. Swallowing thickly, he continues, “Please do not act in this fashion again, or else I will be forced to involve the Captain.” ****

“You’re not going to tell him?” ****

“I do not see what would be gained from such an action,” Itachi replies honestly. “This will remain our secret that we will never speak of after this conversation is finished.” ****

“My lips are sealed,” Ino confirms, more than a little sadly. After seeming to silently weigh the pros and cons of her next words, she eventually adds, “I know you probably don’t want my opinion, but for what it’s worth I think you’re making a mistake.” ****

“You are right,” he counters almost immediately, “I am afraid I do not want your opinion at all.” ****

Once he’s in the privacy and comfort of his own quarters, Itachi allows himself a single moment to lick his own wounds. Slipping out of his regulation uniform, he places a single hand over the red pendant that rests against his chest. Against his better instincts he’d elected not to take the stupid amulet off, unable to part with it even though in the end it was merely a symbol of lies, because it served as a reminder of everything that felt real between the two of them.

 **  
**_It was meaningless_ , Itachi thinks, repeating his own words over and over in his head. Perhaps, with careful practice and repetition, maybe one day he will actually believe them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a lot longer than i wanted because of my new job but YAY WE'RE BACK! i don't have much to say about this chapter except it made me really really happy and then it made me really really sad. also this chapter is a very belated birthday present to my fiancee and partner in crime alexa, who is the reason this au even exists, so if you're inclined feel free to drop her a birthday wish on tumblr @durintrash (and make sure to check out her amazing art for this au, too!) 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, and any and all comments and kudos mean the world to me. see you next time!


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ino raises a single pale blonde eyebrow at the response. “So, you’re giving me permission to take all Corvus crewmembers who’ve yet to take leave off active duty effective immediately?” she asks slowly. 
> 
> “‘S what I said, isn’t it?” he counters, and is instantly disturbed by the devious joy that fills his Chief of Operations’s face.
> 
> “Great!” she brightly replies. “Have fun on your vacation, then, Captain!”
> 
> Shisui stares at her for a few stunned, silent seconds before he demands, “Do what on my what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for: alcoholism, mentions of drug abuse, mental health issues, and descriptions of child abuse/medical abuse. 
> 
> also, as always i recommend keeping track of the stardates listed at the top of each chapter because, uh. we're heading towards Some Stuff.

**stardate 2268.323**

In light of the numerous fires currently erupting across their increasingly tumultuous universe, it’s a comedic tragedy that Shisui can’t help but be occupied by the way his own life is burning to the ground.

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, are there bigger fish to fry than he and Itachi’s fake marriage and their maybe-fake-maybe-real public makeout session? Without a doubt. But it’s a difficult thing to simply put a shelf for a later day, and _yes_ , Shisui has tried to do exactly that-- _repeatedly_ , in fact. Truth be told, it’s easy enough to ignore when he’s immersed in his daily routine, like drowning in mountains of paperwork or getting shot at it by enemy combatants. Hell, Shisui never thought there’d be a point in his life where he was actually relieved to catch a bullet, but it’s better than the quiet moments where his mind wanders back to that fucking night and all the little details of their kiss come back to haunt him (seriously, if he thinks about Itachi’s soft hair between his fingers or the way the man moaned into his mouth one more time he _will_ die).

Considering he’ll never, _ever_ get the chance to kiss Itachi again, subjecting himself to such a thing was tantamount to emotional suicide. But he can’t change that it’s happened, just like how he can’t change the direction their relationship is destined to go in. For a brief, shining moment that Shisui is _certainly_ not proud of, he had hoped that their experiences on both Vulcan and Pragma had somehow changed Itachi’s mind, mysteriously convincing him not to go through with his _other_ fake marriage, his _real_ fake marriage. The easy, comfortable intimacy between them as they lived their life on the Corvus coupled with what felt like genuine chemistry during the Pragmaen farce had Shisui almost certain that he wasn’t standing on the ledge of romantic lunacy alone. For a single second in time, while he was kissing Itachi for all the world to see, Shisui was actually pathetic enough to think he actually had a chance with the guy.

Of course, that hope was almost immediately dashed when Itachi ran away from him, then completely crushed the moment Itachi plainly told him that everything that lay between them didn’t mean a damn thing. 

In the end, Shisui can’t even bring himself to be upset with Itachi. Frankly, it’s his own damn fault for ignoring all the evidence and thinking the two of them are trapped in some romantic dramedy, fated lovers destined to defy the odds and end up together (and isn’t _that_ a vomit-inducing concept). Itachi might be kicking his ass again and again, but Shisui’s the one who keeps showing up and bending over to give him the chance. Since that night on the Beta Quadrant, he’s known how things are going to go: their mission will end, and Itachi will marry a woman he barely even knows to make his daddy proud while Shisui will do God knows what with his own life. And even though Itachi has never given a single indication that he plans to change his mind and do something as insane as running off with his own _boss_ , Shisui keeps waiting for the impossible to occur. 

That in mind, it’s high-time for Shisui to put on his big boy pants and go back to his original plan: less moping, more distance. Given that the winds of the galaxy are beginning to take a turn for the worst, now more than ever it’s vital that he’s focused on the things that matter in life, like actually doing his job. Because at this point, all Shisui can do is wait for life to bless him with the next unpleasant surprise that’s in store. 

*

“Alright, Captain.” The figure in front of Shisui snaps her gloves, and the sound of latex on skin sends shivers down his spine. “The time has come. Give me your blood.”

Blinking, Shisui replies, “Sakura, you really don’t need to put it like that.”

The good doctor’s grin widens in a fashion that is in no way medically reassuring. “But it’s _fun_ ,” she argues, inching closer with needle in hand, and a resigned Shisui simply sighs before rolling up his sleeve. 

Of all the many unpleasant and no-fun aspects of life in Starfleet’s service, annual mandatory medical exams are one of Shisui’s least favorite. Dragging himself into the Med Bay to be poked, prodded, and bled like cattle at the slaughter is an annoying formality on the best of days, but as of late very few of Shisui’s days could even be classified as “good.” With the Klingon Empire breathing down the Federation’s neck and most of the ships in her fleet bouncing around like ping pong balls in an intergalactic arcade game, the last thing he wants to do is spend his time bending and coughing for the sake of science. 

Of course, the second those words left his lips, Sakura had all but bodily hauled him to her dungeon of pain and suffering, with Ino cheering her on like the little lesbian traitor that she was. The Betazoid still stands at his side, expression haughtily amused, while Sakura drains him like a damn vampire. Her red lips pull into a devious smirk when she catches sight of the pointed way Shisui looks away from the needle. “Over a decade in Starfleet and you get squeamish over a little blood draw?”

“I’m predisposed to anemia,” Shisui retorts defensively, hoping he still looks manly and respectable despite the sweat prickling at his forehead. “I can get very faint when my blood’s drawn.”

“I’ll bring you a cookie,” Sakura says, rolling her eyes as she rotates the vials of Shisui’s stolen blood before passing them off to a nurse to spin. 

“You joke, but it’s still very early by Earth standards, and I haven’t even eaten yet. I could die,” he adds, widening his eyes in the hopes of gaining sympathy. 

As always, it doesn’t work, because his crew is nothing if not merciless. “We’ll remember you fondly, sir,” Ino assures him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately before Shisui scowls and shakes her off. Repressing a laugh, she continues, “Speaking of people dropping dead, we’ve still got more personnel that needs to be sent on shore leave. I don’t suppose I could sweet-talk you into doing your job and authorizing that?”

Recently, the task of sending a small army for beachtime and cocktails had proven to be both exhausting and frustrating. Sure, over the years the odd Ensign had approached Shisui, heart in throat, asking for a few spare days to spend with a sweetheart or sickly family member, and usually Shisui had no problem approving the request. If anything, he tended to suffer from the opposite problem, where too few crewmembers asked for time-off, causing the shore leave to build and build until the Corvus was getting flagged for noncompliance. So, Shisui has spent many of his current shifts on a mad dash flinging his people into the sky so they could actually get some fucking _rest_. 

In the last month or so, Ino and Sakura had quietly skipped off to Risa to take many, _many_ disgustingly romantic pictures together that Shisui had teased Ino for mercilessly while privately finding the whole affair painfully adorable. Kisame had disappeared into the galaxy to go--of all things--fishing, and Karin spent a week on Vulcan to visit Jugo. Anko had also abandoned the Corvus for the familiar comfort of Earth, but that was less a vacation as much as it was a top secret mission on behalf of Shisui himself. Currently the woman was still AWOL, but with any luck she’d be returning to the ship soon with some good news and better evidence. 

“First of all, I resent the implication of that statement,” Shisui says, in between trying to summon up crocodile tears while pressing a fuzzy little cotton-ball to his mortally-wounded arm. “Second of all, what’s to discuss? Crew’s been run ragged recently, and Lord knows our chances of catching a break are getting slimmer each day.” 

Ino raises a single pale blonde eyebrow at the response. “So, you’re giving me permission to take all Corvus crewmembers who’ve yet to take leave off active duty effective immediately?” she asks slowly. 

“‘S what I said, isn’t it?” he counters, and is instantly disturbed by the devious joy that fills his Chief of Operations’s face.

“Great!” she brightly replies. “Have fun on your vacation, then, Captain!”

Shisui stares at her for a few stunned, silent seconds before he demands, “Do what on my _what_?” 

“Well, you _did say_ ‘all Corvus crewmembers who haven’t taken leave,’” she points out, “and your name _is_ at the top of my list.”

“Yeah, but…” He trails off, frowning, before lamely finishing, “that’s different.”

“How so?”

“Because I said so! Take it back.”

“Nope.”

“ _Ino_ ,” he whines, “take it back!” 

“Not gonna happen.” At that, her expression softens, and Shisui--uncomfortable as always with sincere emotion--looks away as she gently adds, “Captain, you’re no better than the rest of us. Admit it, you’re just as tired as everyone else.” Shisui will not, in fact, admit it, preferring to hide any moment of weakness from his team like eggs on Easter morning. But though he won’t actually say such a thing to Ino, he can’t deny that the weight of three years of space travel, along with the shroud of war and all the Danzo drama is starting to weigh on him. So, despite his petulance, he doesn’t object when Ino tells him, “Ever since we started you’ve done a great job looking after this crew; it’s time to let me return the favor.” 

“But…” Shisui begins feebly, “I don’t wanna.”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to, sir,” Sakura replies, appearing from behind a wall of machinery to drape a conspiratory arm around Ino’s shoulders. “It’s called ‘being an adult.’”

“I hate you both,” he mutters, pouting, which earns him two shit-eating smiles in return. 

“You can get out of my hospital now,” Sakura announces, and Shisui doesn’t think twice before escaping. As he scampers out the door, Ino loudly adds, “Oh, don’t forget to tell Itachi he’s gotten the boot, too!” 

Shisui whirls around to glare at her, all too aware of the suggestive glint in her eye, “You,” he hisses, “are an _evil_ woman.”

Ino winks. “I try,” she says, the last thing Shisui catches before the door to the Sick Bay closes in his face. 

Most days, Shisui finds himself hopelessly fond of Ino Yamanaka, charmed by her tenacity, wit, and loyalty and thankful to have such a dedicated Officer at the head of his crew.

Today is absolutely _not_ one of those days. 

Feeling incredibly faint from both his impromptu bloodletting adventure and Ino’s devious machinations, it takes a regrettable amount of effort for Shisui to regroup. After kidnapping multiple cups of coffee and a heaping plate of breakfast slop from the Mess Hall, he returns to his personal quarters to mope and, regrettably, pack. Though he’s loathe to admit it, the Betazoid’s mutiny is probably for the best; one more day of artificial starship air and itchy Starfleet uniforms--to say nothing of the larger and much uglier problems on the horizon right now--and Shisui will probably snap, the fallout from which will certainly not be cute. 

All in all, once he gets past his crippling fear of leaving the Corvus to her own devices in the wake of impending catastrophe and bloodshed, Shisui’s almost looking forward to having a week off to spend how he pleases. His sole obligation will be to stop by his childhood home at least once to be force-fed and lectured about his determination to die alone, but that’s a small price to pay for home-cooked food and the chance to lay in his own bed again. 

If nothing else, at least his mother will be happy to see him, though naturally the woman denies ever feeling any type of joy towards her only offspring when Shisui gives her the news of his impending visit.

That said, all fun and games rapidly drain from the conversation the moment Keiko brings up Shisui’s absolute least favorite topic of all time. “I don’t suppose you plan on seeing your father while you’re here?” she asks, and in response Shisui makes a series of very childish, staticky coughing sounds.

“Sorry, Ma, can’t hear you,” he tells her. “You’re breaking up.” Better to play it off like a joke, to act like even the thought alone of coming face-to-face with his father doesn’t send nauseating fear flooding through his veins. 

“I can _see_ you lying to me, Shisui,” she replies thinly, lips pursed, but mercifully, for both of their sakes, lets the subject drop.

Once he’s relayed the rough details of his arrival to his mother and finished throwing together the few non-regulation clothes he still has left, all that remains is passing on the dreaded news to his fellow prisoner, Itachi. Of course, given that Itachi is appearing outside his quarters not minutes later looking uncharacteristically bewildered, Shisui suspects the man has already heard of their impending forced departure.

“Let me guess: you heard the tale of how I was so viciously tricked,” Shisui declares as he opens his door to allow Itachi to enter. There’s a moment where Itachi seems to silently debate the pros and cons of stepping inside that Shisui chooses to ignore because actually thinking of such a thing is absurdly painful. After a beat, Itachi finally enters, though he chooses to maintain a wide and careful distance from Shisui, who plops back on his bed and doesn’t allow himself to consider how agonizing this weird tension between them is becoming. 

“You make it seem like Ino is some sort of supervillain,” Itachi says, lips curling in the face of Shisui’s indignation.

“Because she _is_ ,” he insists. “She used her fucking wiles on me to kick me off the ship!”

“Oh, no. Not the wiles,” Itachi deadpans, which is cuter than it has any right to be. His expression softening, he continues, “As fraught as our current situation is, you must know that the ship will be fine without us.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shisui admits gloomily. “Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, though.” 

“Of course not,” Itachi agrees genially, and even though Shisui’s about ninety-nine percent sure the guy’s just screwing with him he decides to be the bigger person and move on. 

“So, any big plans for our time off? You must have a stockpile of dreadfully boring textbooks you’re just aching to dive into.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes, and Shisui merely grins in response. “If you must know, I actually received an invitation to a lecture on updated lab procedures regarding the study of recent xenobiological developments in the Alpha Quadrant.” 

“Wow, that’s… actually duller than I was expecting,” Shisui admits, dodging the glare Itachi throws at him. “Where’s this fun festival taking place?”

“As I recall, the event is being hosted by an Earth university--Havard, I believe?” Itachi replies, and Shisui’s eyes widen.

“Boston, huh?” he asks. “That’s a hell of a coincidence considering I’m heading the same exact way.”

“I am afraid I do not know much about the city, save for the fact that it is where you are from.”

Despite himself, Shisui brightens. “You remembered that?”

“In fairness, given how frequently you talked about it there is simply no way I could have forgotten.”

“Hey, in my defense that’s how all people from Boston are like. Then again, you also have the people who _say_ they’re from Boston and then you find out they’re from fucking Quincy or Salem or some shit and it’s like, ‘give me a fucking break, buddy,’ you know what I mean?”

“Not even a little bit,” Itachi confesses, looking perplexed yet amused, “though it would seem you’ve put much thought into this matter.”

“I have lots of thoughts about lots of things.” A ridiculous, irresponsible, and all-around terrible suggestion comes to mind, so naturally Shisui can’t help but immediately blurt it into existence: “Speaking of which, I have an idea.”

“Always a dangerous proposition,” Itachi cuts in wryly, and Shisui just barely manages to suppress an eyeroll.

“Hilarious,” he mutters. “What I was going to say is, if _I’m_ going to be in my city and _you’re_ going to be in my city, then why don’t you just stay with me?” 

As soon as the words leave Shisui’s mouth he finds himself regretting them. Of all the dumbass suggestions he could make, having Itachi, the unrequited love of his life, stay in his goddamn house for seven straight days without a single other soul to bother them is perhaps the dumbest. It’s an especially idiotic offer given The Kiss They Are Absolutely Not Talking About and the awkward atmosphere such a thing has created. 

Considering the shocked and perhaps mildly horrified look on Itachi's face it’s pretty obvious he’s of a similar mindset. Once he’s found his tongue again, the Vulcan slowly asks, “Are you certain that is a wise idea?”

 _Nope, not at all,_ Shisui thinks to himself, _so_ _just walk it back, walk it fucking back!_ “Sure I am,” he says instead, like an absolute clown that just so happens to have the brain capacity of a prehistoric reptile. “I mean, you don’t know the area, and I can navigate those shitty city streets with my eyes closed, so I don’t mind helping you get around. Plus, it saves you trying to find a hella expensive yet gleefully rat-infested hotel to try and stay in.” 

“That is exceedingly kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose…” Itachi replies, hesitation clear in his tone.

“Not at all,” Shisui counters, despite the little voice in his head that’s positively screaming at him to call this whole mess off. The longer the image of Itachi looking uncomfortable and out of place stands in front of him, the worse Shisui feels, since putting the man in a crappy and potentially creepy situation was pretty much the last thing in the world he wanted to do. “Look, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to, I just figured it’d be easier considering… y’know… stuff,” he finishes lamely, awkwardly clearing his throat and forcing himself to look away from Itachi.

“Actually,” Itachi begins, his own gaze darting away from Shisui, “as long as you are sure I would not be a bother I would greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter.” 

It’s annoying and infuriating how, even though Shisui knows he doesn’t stand a snowglobe’s chance in hell with Itachi, a stubborn pang of hope ripples through his chest. “Oh,” he eventually replies, vulnerable in a way he positively loathes. “Okay, yeah. Cool, that’s.... Cool.” 

For the sake of his own sanity, Shisui ignores the blush forming along the curve of Itachi’s cheeks. “I should thank you for your hospitality.”

“No thanks necessary,” Shisui assures him. “Just get ready to be immersed in Bostonian culture.”

“Should I be worried?”

Shisui grins. “You should be terrified.” 

“In that case, all the more reason to take my leave and ensure my packing is finished.” Itachi reaches for the door, then pauses almost immediately. After a moment of contemplation, he glances over his shoulder and favors Shisui with a smile that could melt an Andorian snowcastle before murmuring, “Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome, again,” Shisui replies thickly, like the lovesick fool he is, and finds himself floating on a fizzy little cloud of romance as Itachi walks out his door.

Of course, the moment Itachi is gone the fuzzy feelings disappear and Shisui is left with the reality of his predicament--namely, that he’s somehow going to have to survive a week of private cohabitation with Itachi without either kissing him again or going spontaneously insane, and that it’s entirely his fault that he’s stuck here. Groaning, Shisui flops back onto his bed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes until he’s seeing stars, trying and failing to scrub the thought from his mind. 

So much for not getting his ass kicked anymore. 

*

It’s mid-afternoon on the day before Shisui and Itachi are scheduled to set sail when Anko Mitarashi finally waltzes back onto the Corvus. Not fifteen minutes later, Shisui is knocking at her door hard enough to break it down. After stewing in his aggravation and frustration for days over Anko’s delayed return, he’s fully worked up to a frothy boil by the time he actually gets to the woman’s quarters. Considering Shisui had quietly booted Anko from the ship so she could dig up dirt on Danzo Fucking Shimura, he thinks he’s entitled to a little hysteria. For all he knew his best friend had been murdered in the quest to prove that, despite claims that one Hiruzen Sarutobi had died peacefully and naturally of old age, Danzo had bumped the old fart off in the hopes of seizing control of Hiruzen’s place in the Federation to hasten the Klingon war. 

So yeah, maybe Shisui’s a _little_ irrationally pissed off when he reaches Anko. “I,” he starts once she reveals herself to be bleary-eyed and unbothered, “am going to fucking kill you.”

Anko cocks her head to the side curiously. “Have we met?” she asks lightly, and with a groan Shisui forces his way inside. Anko’s bunk might be the only section of the ship in competition with Shisui’s own in terms of messiness, meaning Shisui finds himself precariously stepping over piles of dirty, nearly identical black clothes and ancient junk food wrappers while trying to pose assertively in front of an unimpressed Anko. 

“Where the hell were you?” he demands, arms crossed tight against his chest. “You were supposed to be back two days ago.”

“Got tied up,” she replies, shrugging, and Shisui’s eyebrows fly up his forehead.

“I sincerely hope you’re not being literal right now.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Anko says, “Just about. You think it’s easy sneaking around Starfleet headquarters digging up dirt on your bestest best friend in the Federation? Which, hey, any idea on when you plan on thanking me for _once again_ putting my ass on the line to help you win your Danzo Shimura pissing contest?”

An uncharacteristically wounded shadow sweeps over Anko’s features, and it’s enough to puncture Shisui’s admittedly self-centered righteous fury. It occurs to him, a tad too late, that he’s being a bit of a huge asshole right now. For much of his life he’s relied on Anko like a limb, meaning he’s perhaps taken for granted her ability to drop everything and anything for him. With almost three decades of friendship between them, sometimes it’s hard for Shisui to clearly see the evidence of how much they’ve done for each other, of all the things Anko has done for _him_. “I’m sorry,” he tells her quietly, lips curving down in regret, “and thank you.” 

After a long, heavy minute she mutters, still visibly annoyed, “It’s a start,” which in Anko-speak means he’s forgiven--at least until he says more stupid shit that she’ll probably slap him for. Sighing, she brushes past Shisui to pull out a thin manila folder buried deep within her overflowing suitcase and shoves it into his unprepared hands. While he flips through the pages of Federation dirty laundry Anko spent days dutifully stealing--mugshots, interrogation transcripts, painfully dull reports--she warns, “Wouldn’t recommend getting your hopes up, kid. The people I hunted down were plenty shady, meaning that as far as we know much of this stuff is lies and garbage.”

“Looks pretty official,” he replies, running his thumb over one of the many instances of Danzo’s name in the files and ignoring the way his stomach drops down to his feet.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” she retorts. “None of this proves that the bastard actually went all Judas, but…”

“It’s a start,” he finishes.

Taking a chance, Shisui glances up and is unnerved to find Anko watching him pensively, then frowns as she starts, “You already know what I’m going to say.”

“‘Course I do,” he says, closing the folder with a snap, irritation building. “You’re gonna tell me to pass this mess along to someone bigger and badder than us.”

“And you won’t,” Anko guesses.

“And I won’t,” Shisui confirms, tone as hard and cold as steel. 

For a moment Anko simply stares at him, her expression careful as she considers the right way to proceed. It’s an unusually thoughtful gesture for Anko, who has a terrible tendency to spread her thoughts the way some people set fires and rarely, if ever, seems to care much about the consequences. But ever since they were kids she’s always been willing to expose at least a sliver of that elusive soft side to Shisui, which is why he’s not entirely surprised when Anko says, as gently as she’s capable, “Shisui, it’s been over a year and we’ve heard zip from this guy. Maybe it’s time to consider that the Cardassian was only fucking with you, and Shimura’s just another slimy bastard crawling around the universe who poses no threat to us.”

“I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” Shisui replies flatly, glaring at Anko as if she’s meaning to gut him, and to her credit the woman remains unmoved. It’s a good thing the two of them rarely fight; considering they’re both stubborn assholes with a tendency towards arrogance and impatience, actual battles between Shisui and Anko have the potential for world-ending catastrophe if not quickly and properly contained. 

Eventually, Anko decides to be the bigger person and caves, no doubt sensing defeat on the horizon. “Okay,” she breathes, breaking the silence between them as she scrubs a hand across her face. “In that case, what’s the next step, oh fearless leader?” 

“You tell me; I’m not the one who spent the last week and a half going James Bond across the continental United States.” Deciding to take a chance and show his puppy belly, Shisui lowers his voice and asks, “What’s my next step here, Anko?”

The tactic has its desired effect, as in seconds some of the fight drains from Anko’s shoulders and she’s watching him with an exhausted fondness. “Needy little bastard,” she chides without a drop of malice, and Shisui bites his lip to hide his smirk. Ignoring him, she continues, “If I were you--and thank fuck I’m _not_ \--I’d start with these freaks.” Without warning, Anko yanks the folder away from Shisui and opens it, flipping through the pages until she lands on a collage of thin, haunted faces. Taking in their too-old-for-their-years features reminds Shisui of Jugo in a bad way, and he finds himself swallowing the bitter taste on his tongue as Anko explains, “Word on the street was that Orochimaru used to collect sad little orphan kids the way you collect your stupid little records--”

“Do _not_ compare me to that creature,” Shisui cuts in, appalled, but Anko soldiers on.

“Before Orochimaru got his brains splattered across the milky way most of these brats turned tail and jumped into the abyss to get away from him. The majority of them got pinched by the Federation and locked up, but one kid managed to get away. Girl’s name was Kin and she’s been lost for a while now, but you’ll never guess where the whispers are saying she’s turned up recently.”

Recognition dawns on Shisui and he asks, “It wouldn’t happen to be a little city known for its terrible driving and even worse breakfast chains, would it?” 

“The one and only Boston, Massachusetts,” Anko confirms, “where you’ll just so happen to be stationed for the next few days.” 

Exhaling sharply, Shisui replies, “Okay, so the plan is this: find the girl, interrogate the girl, pray she gives me information that Danzo is a super criminal, hope I don’t get arrested and/or murdered.”

“Hey, you asked,” she retorts.

“That I did,” he agrees. Frankly, the whole thing sounds like a goddamn crapshoot at best, with about a million different ways the situation can go sideways and leave them absolutely, positively fucked. On the other hand, it’s pretty much the only option they have, and it’s certainly the best shot Shisui’s been presented in the Danzo Shimura arms race, so at this point he supposes he’ll have to take what he can get. Regarding the woman standing in front of him, Shisui tilts his head and tells her, “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

Snorting, Anko replies, “Obviously.” Out of nowhere her dour expression clears and becomes impossibly bright in a fashion that can only be described as threatening. “In fact, I’m _such_ a good friend that I got you a very thoughtful present to spice up your trip.”

A fear much worse than anything Danzo-related ever could be suddenly claims Shisui’s internal organs as he watches Anko reach into her suitcase and pull out an unmarked black bag. “Do I even want to know what’s in here?”

Anko’s returning grin is as sharp as a knife and just as dangerous as one, too. “Only one way to find out.” 

Bracing himself, Shisui plucks the offending item from Anko’s hand and opens it up. Given Anko’s terrible sense of humor and Shisui’s uber-terrible personal life, he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what the lovely gift is before he even sees it. Said suspicion is confirmed when Shisui glances inside and is greeted by the sight of--God help him--condoms and lube. 

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” he says eventually, once he gets over his attack of speechlessness. 

“Trust me, the look on your face is thanks enough,” Anko reassures before giving him a hearty slap on the arm. “Have fun on your honeymoon, champ!”

“Ugh,” Shisui groans, “don’t you even start.”

“Oh, c’mon, Captain: what happens on Earth, _stays_ on Earth.” 

“Anko, _nothing_ is going to happen.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Anko looks at him critically, and the focus of her gaze has Shisui squirming. “Who do you think you’re talking to right now? Do you seriously think you can convince _me_ of all people that you’re putting up your second-in-command purely out of the kindness of your heart and _not_ because you’re hoping he’ll fall madly in love with you and abandon his Vulcan fiancee to spend the rest of his life gallivanting from planet to planet with you?” As always, Shisui can’t lie to her, and to his silence she replies, “ _Mhm_. Thought so.” 

Swallowing thickly, Shisui says, “Look, it doesn’t matter, alright?” Anko opens her mouth to debate, so he adds, finality clear in his voice, “It really, _really_ doesn’t.”

Though she looks like she wants to argue, thankfully Anko concedes defeat. “If you say so.”

Stealing the folder back from Anko and shoving it back into his bag of illicit goodies, Shisui announces, “Well, now that you’ve driven me to the brink of madness, I think it’s time for me to get ready for my ride back home.”

“Probably for the best. Oh, and for the record?” In an endearing moment of insecurity, Anko’s eyes dart away as she tells him, “If you die because of this Danzo shit _or_ this Itachi shit I will totally fucking resurrect you just so I can end you myself.”

Shisui smiles, an affectionate warmth curling around his heart. “I’d expect nothing less,” he assures her, breaking out in a full-on grin at the way Anko colors in embarrassment. 

“Get the hell out of my room already, loser,” she mutters, murder taking the place of discomfort in her gaze, and Shisui makes a mad dash for the door.

“Consider me gone!” 

*

The morning of his and Itachi’s departure, Shisui finds himself at the Science Lab prepared to take the risk of a lifetime.

He hadn’t slept much the night before, mind plagued by thoughts of Itachi, the war, and Danzo. With each passing day it feels as if the universe is shrinking, and as if he and his crew are growing that much closer to danger. They’ve been lucky to remain relatively unscathed so far, but if Shisui knows anything about life it’s that eventually luck runs out, meaning it was time to prepare for the exact moment when shit was going to hit the fan.

Mildly paranoid by nature, Shisui can smell trouble the way some people smell storms; ‘course, that also might be on account of his being so good at _causing_ said trouble, but the point stands. Ever since he made the decision to start chopping heads off the Danzo hydra, he knew that the end result of that battle would be ugly and bloody. But as the day of their confrontation seems to get closer, Shisui feels even less sure of how to proceed, especially since he’s done such an excellent job of both backing himself into a corner and then isolating himself entirely. Whenever he so much as entertains the thought of turning to anyone else but Anko, a vision of his crew--of _Itachi_ \--butchered and broken fills his head, and then Shisui promptly stops thinking of anything at all. 

But it’s become clear that his current tactic of walking softly and trying not to poke the Danzo bear isn’t doing him any favors, either. After almost a year and a half of trying to find a way to nail Danzo to the wall, the sad fact is that Shisui doesn’t have much more than he originally started with. At this point, all he’s got are his suspicions, which are the same ones he’s always had, and Kabuto’s testimony/double-crossing, which has produced frustratingly little in the way of tangible evidence. The only new tidbit is that of the girl, Kin, who Shisui knows nothing about and has no clue how to find. Put together, it looks like a whole lot of nothing, and Shisui is growing very weary of nothing. 

With that in mind--and after spending hours considering just how horribly wrong this gamble can go--Shisui lets himself into the Lab and finds himself face to face with the object of his contemplation. 

“Captain,” Kabuto begins, expression souring as he takes in his visitor, “I had thought you would be long gone by now.”

Grinning, Shisui closes the door and asks, “Thought or hoped?”

“Both, if I’m to be honest,” the Cardassian admits, and Shisui snorts. “I take it you have come to give me your traditional ‘look upon a single member of my crew unkindly in my absence and I’ll end your miserable life’ speech?”

“Yes and no.” Cocking his head to side curiously, Shisui presses, “Is it actually miserable?”

Frowning, Kabuto retorts, “I beg your pardon?” 

“Your life. I mean, you can’t be happy living like this, can you?”

The question instantly puts Kabuto on the defensive, his shoulders stiffening and eyes narrowing at the words. “And what concern is that of yours?”

“None, I guess.” No doubt taking his life in his hands, Shisui walks closer to the man before him and isn’t surprised at how Kabuto tenses at his approach. Deciding to favor compassion over intimidation for the first time in, like, ever, Shisui pauses, maintaining a healthy distance as he continues, “When I first found out you’d been betraying me for two straight years I’ll admit that I didn’t exactly react well, given the aforementioned ‘you betraying me for two straight years’ thing. But the more I think about it, the less I feel angry at you. Matter of fact, I almost pity you.” 

Perhaps the craziest part of all is the fact that Shisui’s not even lying; once the seething anger passed (and it took a while to do that), Shisui can’t help but feel at least a little bit bad for the guy. After all, for all the struggles he’s had in his own life, at least being the literal property of a mad space scientist and an evil dictator weren’t one of them. “Abandoned and ignored for years until that slimy psychopath picked you up and carried you around like space trash, then passed you around for years like the world’s most rotten hot potato. I don’t envy you.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t care what you think of me or my apparently pitiful existence,” Kabuto hisses. “Why have you come here, Captain? What is it that you want?”

“Same thing I suspect you do: to be free of Danzo and all his bullshit.” 

“I already told you--”

“--That you don’t think it can be done, I know.” Shisui stares at Kabuto, as if he can somehow beam his thoughts and sincerity into the man’s head just by looking hard enough. “But what if it can? What if, for once, scumbags like Danzo and Orochimaru _don’t_ come out on top? Think about it: no more lying, no more schemes or false identities--what then?” 

It’s clearly the last thing Kabuto is expecting Shisui to say, given the surprise that fills his face. “What are you asking of me?”

“To be worthy of my trust.” 

At that Kabuto scoffs, darkly amused. “And why are you so certain that I would be?”

“Because you’ve had about a thousand and one chances to blow my entire life up, yet despite how much you seem to hate me you haven’t taken any of them.” Deciding to play the best card in his deck, Shisui quietly adds, “And because I’m pretty sure there’s at least one thing on this boat you actually care about.” 

The statement has exactly the impact he’s hoping it will. For the very first time, Kabuto’s cold, arrogant facade seems to crack, and something genuine bubbles to the surface. It reminds Shisui of the way the Cardassian behaved at Mikoto’s memorial service, the awkward yet sincere attempt he made to console Itachi. The moment was the first time Shisui suspected there might be more to the spy than he previously assumed, and, more pragmatically, the first time he thought Kabuto might turn out to be even more useful in the battle against Danzo.

After a long moment of silence, Kabuto finally replies, “Given my particular lot in life, I don’t think you’d be surprised to learn I’ve never had the highest opinion of the people around me. It didn’t matter what society I found myself in, what species surrounded me, it was always the same: greed, betrayal, destruction. Death. It was exhausting.” Shisui makes an effort to keep his expression as even as possible, sensing that any sympathy will only cause Kabuto to recoil further. Still, he can’t help but feel at least a little sorry for the guy, especially as Kabuto continues, “When I first joined your ship, I was still of the same mindset. I was suspicious of everyone and everything I encountered, but it didn’t matter. I was still welcomed, still considered part of the crew. Despite it all, Itachi was still kind to me. In fact, I’d go so far to say he was the first person I could ever call a friend.”

“And you repaid that kindness by stabbing him in the back,” Shisui concludes, as neutrally as possible given the instinctive fierce protectiveness that’s triggered the moment anyone so much as breathes wrong near Itachi. “Not exactly the most friendly behavior.”

The look Kabuto gives him is long and critical. “You’re really willing to go this far for his sake?”

“Yeah,” Shisui admits, voice just shy of hoarse, “I really am.” 

“Lord Danzo won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Then neither will I.” Indecision is still written all over Kabuto’s face, so Shisui decides to just take the plunge and hope for the best. “Look, I’m going to be blunt with you.”

“Implying you ever do anything else,” Kabuto retorts, which Shisui brushes past for both of their sakes. 

“I’m looking for a girl, goes by the name of Kin. Might be able to blow the lid on this Danzo trashcan wide open. Think you might want to help me find her?”

For the second time in this conversation, Kabuto looks as if Shisui’s knocked him on his ass. Clearly the Kin business was just about the last thing he was expecting, and Shisui waits with breath that is exceptionally bated for Kabuto to decide what he wants to do with the proposition. 

It feels as if a lifetime has passed before Kabuto eventually tells him, “Before Orochimaru’s ship was seized, I smuggled Kin and as many kids as I was able off the Jormungandr. It was the only foolish risk I’d taken since I was stolen from my homeworld, and even that didn’t feel like enough considering there were others that were… not so lucky. But only Kin was crafty enough--and lucky enough--to avoid being ensnared by both the Federation and Lord Danzo. All these years I’ve known where she’s been hiding, but I swore to take that secret to my grave.” 

Sighing heavily, Kabuto grabs a notepad and quickly scribbles on it before taking a single sheet free and shoving it into Shisui’s hand. Written neatly between the lines is a single address, one that’s on the fringe of Cambridge if he’s not mistaken. Glancing up he takes in the full weight of Kabuto’s heavy gaze as the man says, “Do not make me regret choosing to do otherwise.”

Shisui curls the paper in his palm, feeling the weight of the world resting in his hand. “I don’t intend to,” he replies and means it. 

With his last pressing matter on the Corvus as settled as it’s going to get, Shisui grabs his things and prepares to fuck off into the stars. Itachi is already waiting for him, looking over-prepared and irritated by the delay, the expression remaining even when Shisui puts on his most charming grin. Shikamaru looks equally pissy, unsurprising given that he’s also on leave and, according to Ino, probably going to visit Temari, the girlfriend he will not admit to having even under the threat of death. Both Ino and Sakura look far too pleased with themselves as they see them off at the landing pad, waving with a sickening enthusiasm as the three travellers are transported to a shuttle at the near-by Alpha Spaceport. 

As they dock, an odd fondness curls in Shisui’s chest; it’s the first time he’s been at this port since the dreaded, awful, no-good day he realized his feelings for Itachi. Truthfully, it seems like a century has passed since the moment Itachi handed him a dusty old Earth record and Shisui gave the man his heart in return. For better or worse, neither one of them is the person they once were, and as Shisui glances at the thoughtful expression of the man beside him he can’t help but wonder if they’re thinking exactly the same thing. 

Waiting for their ride across the universe, the three Corvus escapees linger around each other in a mildly awkward silence. Eventually Shikamaru breaks the quiet by sighing heavily and announcing, “Well… bye,” before turning on his heel and disappearing without another word.

Shisui can’t help but snort at the display. “Charming kid, that one,” he mutters before shrugging and continuing on with his day. Given Itachi’s lack of response Shisui suspects he agrees, but is simply too polite to say anything. That’s okay, though; Shisui’s uncouth enough for the both of them.

Not long after that it’s time for Shisui and Itachi to join the leagues of Earth-bound travellers, cramming into an elderly shuttle that’s surely seen better days and flanked by a sea of faces containing a variety of species. Shisui puts an extraordinary amount of effort into studying the people around him, taking in the various shades of their skin and the curls and spikes of their features, because it’s a hell of a lot safer than focusing on the weight and warm of Itachi’s body pressed against his own or the mixture of joy and dread slowly piling up in his chest the closer they get to his city. 

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, is honestly half the reason he’s spent over a decade avoiding the place he once called home as much as humanly possible. Admittedly, it helps that the sensation ebbs and flows with the years--sometimes it’s as easy as taking a breath and sometimes it feels as if all the air’s been choked from his lungs. But with this visit he’s on edge like never before, haunted by the possibility that around every corner, behind every building in his too-small city his father might be waiting to greet him. And even better? This time he was dumb enough to bring a witness to his inner turmoil. 

For his part Itachi is engrossed in a book he’s pulled from the travel bag tucked beneath his seat, and for a second Shisui is so preoccupied by the severe, concentrated line of the Vulcan’s brows that he doesn’t notice exactly what Itachi is reading. But once he does, it feels as if all the artificial air has been drained from the shuttle, leaving his heart stopped and his lungs aching. Because clutched between Itachi’s slender green fingers is the other half of the Alpha Spaceport equation from so many years ago: the wrinkled, yellowed pages of that accursed Pasteur biography, aka “The Whole Stupid Reason Shisui Fell In Love With Itachi In The First Place.”

The gut-punch of a realization must show on his face, as at one point Itachi happens to glance at Shisui and his expression quickly grows concerned. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no. Nothing,” Shisui replies, the words perhaps a little too fast to be believable. “I just, uh. Didn’t think you’d actually read that thing.”

Shifting from worry to amusement, Itachi asks, “You purchased me a book in the hopes that I would not read it?”

“Obviously not,” Shisui retorts in mild annoyance. “I thought you’d think it was dumb. That’s all.”

“Hardly,” Itachi replies, in a tone that implies much more fondness than should be allowed. The situation only worsens when Itachi (very gently) closes the dusty pages and levels him with a critical look, the type of look that typically proceeds trouble. Shisui’s suspicions are only confirmed when Itachi asks, after a significant pause, “Is something the matter?”

“What would possibly be the matter?” Shisui counters, which seems like a better option than admitting that, like, seventy different things are the matter right now. 

“I would not know,” Itachi says neutrally, “hence my asking.” 

If it were anyone else, Shisui would find a charmingly hollow way to deflect any and all concern, steering the conversation into an entirely different direction with his trademark wit and roguish grin. But unfortunately it’s Itachi, one of the only people in the galaxy that Shisui can’t seem to fool and the only person he’s ever felt so completely and painfully disarmed by. It’s a terrible power, one that could no doubt be exploited for universal domination and, like, insider trading if Itachi knew how to properly harness it. 

Of course Itachi doesn’t, because he’s too kind to use his keen powers of observation to peel Shisui apart layer by layer like the world’s saddest onion. Seeming to choose his words exceptionally carefully, Itachi continues, “If it’s not too presumptuous for me to suggest such a thing… would your current state in any way be related to fears of encountering your father?” 

The question feels like a very sweet, very well-meaning bullet to the chest, and Shisui actually has to close his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. “Something like that,” he eventually answers, the words hoarse and whispery like a long-held secret. Of all the places he imagined this conversation happening… Well, he _never_ imagined this conversation happening, because even a few seconds of thinking about his father has Shisui wanting to slam his hand on a hot stove to focus on anything except the age-old scar tissue inside his chest that starts splitting at the seams whenever the topic of the man is raised. 

“You do not have to explain your feelings to me, if that’s your wish,” Itachi tells him, and Shisui shakes his head in response.

“I actually do, which is the most fucked up part of all.” Looking back on his life, Shisui can’t remember a time where he wasn’t plagued by his father’s illness, as the dirt and grime of it seems to have leaked into even his younger self’s happiest moments: a holiday stained with the scent of spilled beer, a school event missed and met with yet another empty promise to do better. There’s no way to describe to Itachi the revolving door of pain and disappointment, all the dashed hopes and built-up resentment. He can never accurately convey to another person exactly how it feels to use his very first Starfleet payment to fund his father’s rehab stay, or to come home from yet another romp amongst the stars, exhausted and overworked, and immediately dragging himself across the city to bail his father out of prison. 

The sadness and anger, built up over the years to cover the soft, unguarded parts of himself that still stupidly feel affection and protectiveness towards a man who essentially punched a whole through his chest and left him to drown in his own blood and guts--maybe there just weren’t words for such a experience. “I just don’t know what to say,” Shisui eventually concludes lamely, but blessedly, it seems to be enough for Itachi. 

Without hesitation (shocking, given the bizarre, sexually tense stasis they seem to find themselves in these days), Itachi reaches for him, lightly resting his hand over Shisui’s own, and in return Shisui reaches for him like a man drowning. And in that moment, despite everything else that lies between them and the million other little troubles that currently plague Shisui, Itachi’s enough for him, too. 

*

In the grand scheme of things, Boston’s nothing more than spec of dust floating along in a vast universe. But to Shisui the city is everything--good, bad, and every messy bit in between. 

Days old snow blankets the streets and cars as they step out of the airport and into the harsh winter sunlight. By this time of year it’s a given that the Northeastern coast will be filthy and waterlogged, but after so many months away from his childhood home it’s almost startling to be surrounded by the crowds of pedestrians and the ever-present honking of horns. The grimy gray all around them is miles and miles away from the sterile atmosphere they’ve spent the last three years inhabiting, and he can only imagine he’s not the only one reeling from the shift. 

Blinking away from the intense glare, Shisui readjusts the dufflebag hanging over his shoulder and shifts his attention to the man beside him. If Shisui feels out of sorts at the sight of the city spread out before him, Itachi looks positively lost, caught between visceral bewilderment and scientific curiosity. It’s terribly endearing, watching Itachi study a goddamn Dunkin Donuts like it’s a complicated math problem he’s attempting to untangle, and Shisui can’t restrain the grin that’s threatening to overtake him. “Well?” he finally asks, once he’s given Itachi a minute or two to take in his surroundings, nudging the Vulcan with his free arm. “Any first impressions?”

“It is… loud,” Itachi concludes, tone careful and hilariously solemn, and the laugh Shisui’s been holding back finally breaks free.

Despite his better instincts, fondness dropkicks his commonsense and he can’t help but sling an arm around Itachi’s shoulder before replying, “You ain’t seen nothing yet, my friend.” 

Caught deep in the guts of downtown, it takes something of a miracle to get out of the busiest part of the city, but thankfully Itachi is content to trail behind him with interest and patience. To avoid the little blob of anxiety inside his head insisting he search every crowd for his father’s face, Shisui throws himself into becoming the greatest tour guide this side of the East Coast. As they move through the city Shisui points out familiar, near-ancient landmarks, like the golden dome of the former Capitol building and the perpetually filthy Charles River. The best part is when he subjects Itachi to the horrors of public transportation, an experience that gets even better when Shisui informs him there was a time where the service wasn’t free.

“Forcing people to pay for this is a civil rights violation,” Itachi informs him with a frown, the words spoken loudly over the screech of the subway, as he balances precariously on the violently-rocking car.

“We truly live in an idyllic moment in history,” Shisui replies, ignoring the rush of warmth that hits his system when another passenger shoves Itachi against him while angrily racing off the train.

Once they’ve escaped the madness of rush hour, Shisui leads Itachi to another, much sleepier part of the city. Here it’s mostly older multi-family homes and small, odd stores like pawn shops and niche restaurants. The smell of pizza sauce wafting in the wind has something in Shisui relaxing, like a muscle unclenching, and he takes a moment to enjoy the good memories rushing back, for once overpowering the absolute crapload of terrible ones.

“I take it this is where you live?” Itachi asks, in between avoiding the patches of black ice that cover the sidewalks. 

“Not exactly,” Shisui answers. “We have to make a small pit stop before heading to my apartment.”

“And where would that be?”

Grinning, he simply says, “You’ll see.”

The small house at the end of the corner hasn’t changed since the last time he saw it. The paint is still a dingy white and the front stairs still have just one step out of place, the wood weak with age and water damage. Fortunately, the codes haven’t changed either, the same four numbers as always, and in seconds Shisui is prying open the front door to free himself and Itachi from the cold. 

At first glance, the house seems to be unoccupied, but given the beat-up car he can see sitting inside the garage he’s going to take a guess and say they’ve got company. Deciding to test his luck, Shisui grabs onto the railing connecting the two stories and yells, at the top of his lungs, “ _Ma_! I’m home!”

Beside him Itachi stands completely still, visibly alarmed and hopelessly out of place. “Should you be raising your voice like that?” he asks warily. 

“Don’t worry, she loves when I do this,” Shisui assures him.

As if on cue, a voice from the second floor angrily calls back, “How many times have I told you to stop screaming like an animal in this house?”

“Loves it,” Shisui repeats, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk, and Itachi merely shakes his head in response. Directing his attention back to his mother, he adds, “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me for once. Keep this up and you’ll make me look bad in front of our company.”

“‘Company?’” she counters in disbelief. “You brought someone home to see me for once? It better be my Anko.”

“‘My Anko?’” Itachi mouths, thoroughly shocked, and Shisui bites his lip to hold back his laugh.

“Um, not exactly,” he tells her. “Why don’t you stop bullying your only child and come down to greet us?” 

His mother’s heavy sigh can be heard from even a floor away, and Shisui waits with breath that is bated for the woman to join them. 

After almost three years away from home, the sight of his mother standing at the top of the staircase of his family home is staggering. In any other circumstance, it’d be wholly unremarkable to look up and see her with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed, staring at her son with obvious disapproval. Of course, some of her rough edges soften when she catches a glimpse of his grin, and Shisui’s can’t help the way his heart lurches as he watches her curly hair, as thick and unmanageable as his own, bounce around her head as she descends to meet them. 

“Mother,” Shisui begins sternly, before she can say something exceptionally inappropriate at the appearance of said company, “this is Itachi, my First Officer. Itachi, this is Keiko Uchiha, my exceptionally cruel mother.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Itachi says, inclining his head respectfully, and Keiko raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

There’s a long, mildly uncomfortable pause as his mother appraises Itachi. Belatedly it occurs to Shisui that Keiko’s opinion on the Vulcan matters a hell of a lot more than he had expected and certainly a lot more than it should, given Itachi’s place in his life. “Well,” she eventually replies, “at least one of you has manners.”

“Excuse you,” Shisui cuts in. “If I’m lacking in manners maybe that’s on you, the woman who raised me.”

“Don’t start,” she warns, pointing a thin, threatening, finger at him before nodding towards Itachi. “Look at this boy you’ve brought home to me; he’s skin and bones! Is this how you take care of your crew?” 

“ _Ma_!” Shisui snaps, mortified; somehow, in the three years he’s been away, he’s managed to forget just how profoundly embarrassing his remaining parental figure is. “Would you stop that? Itachi is _fine_.” Next to him, Itachi stands perfectly still, like he’s hoping that if he doesn’t so much as breathe he can escape the conversation unscathed. Sensing the ship around them is very much sinking, Shisui adds, “Besides, I didn’t come here so you could harass my subordinates. We’re just stopping by to get the car.” 

“Of course you are,” she sighs. “You only come around when you want something.” Shisui neglects to remind her that the car is in fact his, and the only reason his mother has access to it is because he’s secretly a very nice son. “Before you steal it from me you’ll want to take a look at it; damn thing’s been acting up the last few days.”

“And you didn’t think to take it to the shop?”

“Why would I do that when I knew you’d be here to fix it?”

“How characteristically pragmatic of you.” Exhaling sharply, he declares, with characteristic melodrama, “Fine, I will fix my own car, which you broke, like a monster.”

Looking entirely too pleased, Keiko replies, “Perfect. In the meantime I’ll put on some tea for your friend.”

Itachi’s eyes widen in concern. “Oh, that isn’t necessary--”

“I insist,” she cuts in, her tone leaving no room for debate, and Itachi shoulders slope in defeat. 

“Tea would be wonderful.”

Leaning closer to him, Shisui whispers, “Good luck,” and the look Itachi gives him could bring mountains crumbling down to Earth. 

“I _heard_ that!” Keiko angrily calls out as she walks into the kitchen, and in response Shisui laughs so hard it nearly hurts. 

Blessedly, Shisui learns fairly quickly that his beloved mother hasn’t actually driven one of his few meaningful possessions into the ground. It only takes about forty-five minutes and a dollop of elbow grease to get the ancient machine he’s had since graduating the Academy back in order. Truthfully, it’s a wonder the old beast is even still functional, a testament to the amount of time and care that’s been put into it, and Shisui’s oddly touched by the image of clean windows and unchipped paint. While he’s never been anything special as a mechanic, he had spent enough time hovering around his father’s various projects when he was a boy to know his way around a wrench well enough. The memory of sitting on his father’s massive tool case, the cool metal biting into the skin of his legs, while the man explained in loving detail how to fool-proof a car’s engine fills Shisui’s head as he works, and the moment he finishes he finds himself slamming the car’s hood down with more effort than necessary just to drive the recollection away. 

By the time he finds his way back into the house, Itachi looks less like a hostage and more like an actual guest. For just a second Shisui simply lingers in the doorway, taking in the scene before him: Itachi and his mother seated at the kitchen table, seeming to enjoy a moment of pleasant camaraderie, with Keiko prattling on about some work drama while Itachi listens with polite yet genuine interest. The image of Itachi with his hands primly resting on the pale wooden table where Shisui’s eaten more meals than he can even count, the light from the wide, open window reflecting in his dark hair, has Shisui swallowing down the sudden, inexplicable knot in his throat. It means something, for some unfathomable reason, that his mother likes Itachi and that Itachi likes her in return. It means a lot more than it should, all things considered.

Eventually it all becomes too much to bear, like looking into the sun. “Well, as fun as performing an autopsy on my own car was, I’m afraid me and Itachi have to hit the road,” Shisui declares, just to break up the happy little home that’s developed in his absence, and his mother rolls her eyes.

“It wouldn’t kill you to spend a little more time at home, you know,” she retorts.

“It just might,” he replies dryly before nodding towards the door. “C’mon, Itachi. We’re escaping this prison.”

Itachi blinks owlishly, clearly feeling caught in the middle of the dueling Uchiha. “I am sure we will have time to visit again before we must return to the Corvus,” he says, and Keiko smiles like a shark smelling blood in the water. 

“I like him,” she tells Shisui.

“Yeah, he’s a real peach. We’re going now.” Before Itachi can up and promise his mother the rest of the week, Shisui grabs his arm and all but bodily hauls him out of the house. 

Once they’re safely inside the car and on the road, Shisui turns to Itachi and says, “Sorry to put you through all that. I know she’s kind of… a lot.”

Pulling his attention away from the cityscape blurring outside the window, Itachi turns and regards him critically. “There is nothing to apologize for; I actually liked your mother very much.” One side of his mouth curls as he adds, “It’s certainly clear you are her son.” 

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

This time Itachi grins. “Take it however you like.” 

From there the rest of the afternoon descends into bickering and chaos. Itachi takes shots at Shisui’s driving (“Must you screech at every other person on the road?” he demands, to which Shisui passionately replies, “It’s just how we do it here!” before laying on the horn for a solid fifteen seconds just to spite Itachi) while Shisui nags and teases Itachi for his overly serious attitude at the grocery store they stop at on the way back to Shisui’s apartment (“I’ve never seen someone look at spinach with such longing,” Shisui tells him, to which Itachi retorts, tone clipped, “You could see it much more closely should I decided to throw it at your head.”). As he follows Itachi down the aisles, muffling a laugh as the Vulcan intensely debates the pros and cons of name brand vs. store brand, he can’t help but think how horribly domestic they must look. It feels easy and wonderful and mind-numbingly horrible to wander around like Itachi’s lovesick trophy husband, and he wonders if it’s like this for everyone, if this is the reason people choose each other and stick together despite all the horror being in love entails. 

_God, I’m such a fucking sap_ , he thinks, but the voice in his head sounds just like Anko.

By the time they actually reach Shisui’s place he’s exhausted, both from travelling and the sheer weight of all his stupid feelings. Itachi trails at his heels like a little lost puppy as Shisui unlocks the apartment to let him inside. An odd anxiety washes over him as Itachi curiously looks around the apartment. Nothing has changed since Shisui was last in this place, but it somehow feels incredibly different now that he’s not alone here. His heart lodged in his throat, he finally asks, “So, is it as big a mess as you were expecting?” 

Itachi turns to face him, his smile wide and sweet enough to light up the entire room. “Not at all.” 

It occurs to Shisui that if the bullshit with Danzo or his own father doesn't kill him, a week alone with this man who looks at him like he’s the brightest star in the known universe absolutely will. 

Shisui smirks. All things considered, it’s probably not the worst way to go.

*

Having spent each one of his moments in the city as a citizen rather than a visitor, it occurs to Shisui on their first full day in Boston that he’s actually pretty clueless about what tourists are supposed to do here. There are a handful of big name ideas that come to mind, things like museums and monuments that Itachi might have a passing interest in, but for once he isn’t exactly sure how to read Itachi. Since it’s apparently a morning of revelations, it also occurs to him that he’s never really spent any leisurely time with his second-in-command. Sure, they’ve accumulated almost three years of chess matches and shittalking, but the specter of the Corvus has always lingered over their relationship, ready to pluck them out of their relaxed contentment at a moment’s notice. For all the time he’s known Itachi he’s never had the man all to himself, and the thought is as freeing as it is terrifying. 

Of course, all of Shisui’s half-baked plans promptly fly out the window when Itachi reveals to him his grand plan for their shore leave as Shisui’s cooking them breakfast. Because it’s Itachi, each day is methodically planned out, the events organized by sections of the city to minimize their commuting time and maximize their recreation, and adoration bleeds through every part of Shisui’s body as he takes in the sight. “You made a list,” he says, not even bothering to keep the fondness out of his voice, as he alternates between watching the weird veggie bacon sizzle and taking in Itachi’s steadily growing blush. 

“It is not a crime to be prepared to successfully navigate an unfamiliar location,” Itachi replies haughtily, and it feels like Shisui’s falling in love with him all over again. 

“Hey, no judgement here, though you are making me feel a little useless as your incredibly gracious host. If nothing else, I suppose I can at least keep you fed while you gallivant around my city.” After their grocery adventure the previous day, Shisui had been equal parts amused and surprised to learn that Itachi, the Vulcan prodigy, is woefully inept in the kitchen. Given Shisui’s own skill with cooking--born out of his mother’s long hours at work and the fact that his liquored up father would probably catch fire if he got near the stove--he’s more than content to ply Itachi with home-made meals for as long as he’s able. 

An odd expression pulls at Itachi’s features as Shisui sets a plate down for him on the island. “You… were not planning on coming with me, then?”

“Did you want me to?” Shisui asks, aiming for casual but most likely sounding deeply fucking desperate. 

“I would not mind your company,” Itachi slowly admits, his eyes carefully locked onto his food as he speaks. It’s a good thing, because it means he misses the way Shisui stares at him, like a dehydrated man finding water in the desert.

“I’m in, then.” 

Later that day, as he lets Itachi drag him from landmark to landmark, Shisui’s pleased to discover that Boston as seen through Itachi’s eyes is shiny and new. It’s almost painfully endearing to watch Itachi take in this brave new world around him, the way he reads each and every plaque around him and how his eyebrows furrow as he searches street signs to be sure they’re going in the right direction. Cheesy as it sounds, it’s easy to ignore the biting cold all around them when he has the warmth of Itachi’s presence beside him, guiding him through yet another icy winter day. 

They’ve got about three days to kill before Itachi’s big nerd conference and another two days of free time after that. Shisui’s already resigned to giving his mother their last days in the city, knowing she’ll hunt him to the edge of the galaxy if he tries to hide Itachi from her. And given that Itachi will be away most of the evening of his xenobiology party, Shisui’s got plenty of time to sucker Kin into meeting with him to discuss the Danzo-Orochimaru Venn Diagram of bastardry. All in all, it’s a decently structured vacation, provided absolutely nothing goes out of place and Shisui can continue lying through his teeth to the one person he values most. As much as the dishonesty still sits ugly in his mouth, Shisui can’t bring himself to think that the truth can cause the both of them anything but misery. It’s better, he thinks, watching with lips chapped and sore from both the cold and smiling, to keep Itachi at a distance now rather than risk losing him completely down the line. 

Charmed as he is by Itachi’s obvious enthusiasm for the goddamn Freedom Trail of all things, Shisui eventually gets to the point where enough is enough and drags his companion into a cafe to thaw out. The little coffee shop is disgustingly quaint, all soft, dark lighting and corny acoustic music humming in the background. As they wait in line, Shisui makes a crack about Itachi ordering a hot chocolate and in return Itachi declares he’ll be covering the bill as penance. With drinks in hand, Shisui leads them over to a set of mustard chairs that have seen better days and for the millionth time in days tries to ignore how fitting it feels to be together like this. 

“It’s too bad you had to come here at, like, the crappiest time of year,” he tells Itachi, once he’s warmed up enough to use his mouth again. “You should see what it’s like during the fall, when all the leaves are changing and it’s nice enough to go apple-picking. Ooh, or in the summer, maybe head down to Martha’s Vineyard for a few days to hang out on the beaches. It’s nice.”

The look Itachi gives him in return is open and fond. “You love it here,” he murmurs, and Shisui, feeling exposed, glances away. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But there are things here I don’t love, too.”

Understanding washes over Itachi’s features, and he nods, letting the subject drop. A not unpleasant silence lingers between them, as Itachi sips his tea and Shisui blissfully regains the feeling in his fingertips. After a few minutes without speaking, Itachi rests his chin in his palm and announces, seemingly out of nowhere, “A few years after we graduated from the Academy I was offered a teaching job here.”

Shisui’s eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise. “Seriously?” he asks. “You never told me that.”

“To be honest it was not a proposition I thought of very often.” His expression darkening, Itachi explains, “During that time I was so preoccupied with my mother’s health and my work on Vulcan that the idea of doing anything else with my life was unthinkable.” A tad rueful, he adds, “Along with that, I will admit I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of potentially seeing you. It is amazing how much life can change, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Shisui agrees, taking in the short space between them that he can’t bring himself to cross, “it really is.” 

After that Shisui drags Itachi through Boston Common and, remembering his promise from the Andorian mission, all but tackles Itachi to the ground to introduce him to the joys of making snow angels. And even though the snow is achingly cold as it soaks through his clothes, the way Itachi looks at him, indulgent and affectionate, is enough to keep Shisui warm all the way home. 

That feeling stays with him as the week goes on, lingering as Itachi meticulously goes through his entire vacation to-do list step by touristy step. Shisui’s pretty sure he’s never enjoyed anything the way he enjoys watching the way Itachi looks at his city, like it’s a beautifully complex puzzle he can’t wait to put together. Given that Boston, for all its big-city prowess, has never been a place well-known for its alien population Shisui had expected Itachi and his pointy green ears would be a little more out of place. But Itachi blends in perfectly, navigating the cracked sidewalks with confidence and surety, as if he’s always belonged here, and it sends sparks through Shisui’s ribcage every time he catches a glimpse of Itachi silhouetted by a familiar cultural touchstone. 

Of course, Shisui’s not the only one who appreciates Itachi’s vigor for the local culture. By the second day Shisui had already found himself with another shade of homesickness, missing the Corvus and her passengers despite how much both had the power to make him batshit crazy. It wasn’t long before he was messaging select members of his crew to make sure that his beloved ship hadn’t somehow exploded into teeny tiny pieces in his absence and was relieved (though mildly saddened) to learn his girl was alright without him. 

While both Anko and Ino had been eager to confirm that everyone was doing just fine and dandy, they were just as eager to pester him for details of his--unique vacation circumstances. Rather than respond with words that could dig the grave of his sad little feelings even deeper, he sends pictures instead. Most of them are dull, nondescript: snapshots of food he’s eaten and places they’ve gone together. But to Ino, because she’s both far more nosey and far more trustworthy than Anko, he’s willing to send the occasional photo of Itachi. The Vulcan’s usually too focused on a painting/statue/terrifying ginormous rat eating an entire pizza by itself to catch Shisui lurking on the sidelines taking pictures of him. In all of Shisui’s photos he looks so different from the uptight, pensive person that stalks the halls of their ship. Here, in the wintery streets of the place Shisui calls home, the tightness around Itachi’s eyes has eased, shoulders lighter without the weight of the world resting upon them. Here, he looks content and perfectly at home. 

**Cute!!!!!!** Ino replies after Shisui sends her an image of Itachi standing on a dock by the ocean, the word followed by an incomprehensible string of hearts, flowers, and smiley faces. 

Looking up from his PADD, Shisui takes in the sight of Itachi before him. For once, the Vulcan’s given up his usual severe, sensible ponytail in favor of a messy bun piled on top of his head. The long line of his throat is hidden by the thick collar of his turtleneck, the same silly shirt Itachi thought was proper to wear to a port bar all those months ago. There’s dark green pooling in the sharp curves of his cheeks and along the slope of his nose and he looks… happy. Honestly, he looks so happy it kind of takes Shisui’s breath away. 

**Maybe a little** , he eventually types back, before turning off the device entirely to avoid Ino’s reply. 

Even though he knows it’s a dangerous game to play, Shisui can’t bring himself to regret his choices, not when they mean he gets to have Itachi here with him. It’s going to hurt like hell, coming back here once Itachi leaves him for good, but Shisui’s never been the type to make good decisions, anyway. There’s no reason to start now, not when doing the wrong thing somehow manages to feel so fucking right. 

Two years from now, Itachi will blast across the galaxy to marry a woman he barely knows and certainly doesn’t love. And two years from now, Shisui will return to his apartment, the one that only started feeling truly lived in once Itachi began sharing it with him, and walk down the maze of bustling streets and he’ll do it all alone. And every single moment going forward he’ll think of a time where he wasn’t alone, a time he spent with Itachi by his side, and he’ll think of the ability the other man had to convince him that this fragile, fleeting moment could last forever. 

_Someday_ , he tells himself, drunk on his own denial as he loops an arm around Itachi’s shoulders to drag him towards another adventure, _but not today_.

*

The morning before Itachi’s conference and Shisui’s date with lady destiny, the Vulcan appears in his bedroom’s doorway like a phantom. His mouth is a flat, grimly determined line and in response an inquisitive Shisui raises his eyebrows. Yet again he’s struck by how not weird it is that Itachi can just do this, can stand in Shisui’s bedroom while they’re both in nothing but their sleep clothes and it’s not even a little bit strange. It feels less like they’re boss and subordinate and more like they’re-- 

“What’s up?” Shisui asks, ruthlessly cutting his thoughts off at the pass before they can torment him further. 

“There has been an update,” Itachi begins solemnly, “to the dresscode of my event.”

“And, what? You have to show up naked or something?”

“I would perish before ever doing such a thing,” Itachi informs him, and the bed beneath Shisui shakes with his laughter.

“Of that I have no doubt.” 

Frowning, Itachi says, “Apparently, the fact that I will be attending the lecture has caused the whole event to become a black tie affair, meaning I am now forced to purchase a suit.” He exhales sharply, heavy enough to send the messy hair of his bangs flying, and Shisui is charmed beyond belief. “Ridiculous.” 

“A suit, huh?” Shisui whistles, a tricky thing to pull off given the size of his shit-eating grin. “Aren’t you fancy.” 

For a moment Itachi narrows his eyes at Shisui’s teasing, but the gesture is quickly wiped away by an uncertainty as he continues, “Given that Earth fashion has never been my area of expertise, I would greatly appreciate your guidance in this matter if you are able to provide it.” 

Considering all the boundaries they’ve breached since boarding the Corvus, Itachi asking him to go clothes shopping together shouldn’t be anything more than a simple favor. But it feels impossibly intimate, especially when he allows himself 0.2 seconds to think about how Itachi will definitely be naked in his near vicinity. “Sure,” Shisui agrees, speaking around the knot of anxiety suddenly forming in his chest, “what are friends for?” 

For the sake of them both, he ignores the way Itachi’s mouth twists at the use of the word “friends.” 

A handful of blocks away from Shisui’s apartment, tucked beneath a historical red brick complex, lies a small mom and pop shop he’s sure he’s walked by hundreds of times before. The decor of red velvet drapes and black leather sofas makes Shisui feel like he’s in a place way too fancy for him, but Itachi, gorgeous and serious, seems to fit right in. He runs his fingers delicately over the various fabrics as they wait for a salesperson, his brow furrowed, while Shisui hangs around him like a sentient purse. 

Eventually a harried blonde woman with an apologetic smile and lines around her eyes appears from the back of the store. “Sorry for the wait,” she tells them. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“This one needs a suit,” Shisui replies, wagging a thumb in Itachi’s direction. “I’m just here for moral support.” 

“I see,” she says slowly, clearly taken aback by Itachi’s presence. Shisui stares at her, practically daring her to say something, but to her credit she recovers quickly. Turning her attention to Itachi, she asks, “Did you have something in mind, dear?”

“I am afraid I do not,” he mutters, and she looks at him knowingly. 

“Well, don’t worry. We’ll figure out just the right thing for you. Come on back.” Resting a hand on Itachi’s shoulder, she guides him towards the racks and racks of clothes. Itachi throws him back a single, mildly panicked glance, and Shisui gives his most reassuring smile in return before plopping down on one of the very squeaky couches. 

To pass the time, Shisui catches up on the comings and goings back on the Corvus. According to Ino, Shikamaru’s back already and since he’s just a smidge more agreeable than usual she’s pretty sure he got laid which, hey. At least someone is getting some. According to Anko, things have remained pretty quiet, a fact Shisui is immensely grateful for. In the absence of her two main men the Corvus has managed to stay out of the line of fire in the escalating Federation-Klingon tensions. Danzo’s also been a non-issue, a fact confirmed by the Starfleet news Shisui now follows like a hound on a trail, and even Kabuto has been… fine. Not, like, fun and exciting, just… fine. But given the immense amount of power the Cardassian now has over him, somehow even more than before, Shisui will happily take fine. 

Speaking of “fine,” it isn’t long before Shisui looks up to find the saleswoman marching Itachi towards him, and he looks… good. Like, really, _really_ good. “What do you think?” the woman asks, pride glimmering in her eyes, and if Shisui could find his own tongue he would most certainly reply. 

Ever since the moment Shisui first laid eyes on Itachi he knew that the man was painfully and unfairly attractive. There’s never been a single second where that opinion has changed--not when Shisui hated him, not when Itachi was covered in alien guts in the Lab, and not when Itachi was stomping on his heart, step by godforsaken step. But he’s pretty sure Itachi’s never been as good-looking as he is now. Hell, he’s pretty sure no other living being has ever compared to the sight of Itachi in a well-tailored suit, his awkward discomfort making him even more endearing. The navy of the suit and pants, dark as the night sky, sits beautifully against the color of Itachi’s skin, complimented by a matching black shirt and tie. And the fancy outfit combined with the way Itachi’s long, black hair, freed from its ponytail, falls around his face has Shisui feeling… a certain type of way.

Shisui clears his throat, running a sweat-slick hand through his hair before finally telling her, “Not bad.” 

The saleswoman laughs. To Itachi she murmurs, “Hard one to please, isn’t he?” 

“Exceptionally,” Itachi agrees, and with a snicker she leaves them to their own devices. 

“So,” Shisui starts, “how do you feel?” 

“Not bad,” Itachi answers wryly, and it takes a Herculean effort to keep Shisui from rolling his eyes. “I suppose this will have to do.”

Chuckling, Shisui says, “Only you could make wearing something as nice as this suit sound so agonizing.”

“Do you truly think it is?” There’s an odd vulnerability to Itachi’s gaze as he searches Shisui’s own features. “Nice, I mean.”

Swallowing thickly, Shisui claps Itachi on the shoulder and tells him, with regrettable honesty, “You’ve never looked better.”

The damn suit continues to haunt Shisui for the rest of the afternoon and even bleeds into the following day, because he’s a parody of himself. Idly he considers telling Anko about it, partly so he’s not suffering with the knowledge alone and partly because he wonders if Anko ribbing him about being a sucker for a pretty face will make the whole situation less messy. But deep down he knows that Anko would probably just give another very un-Anko lecture about the nature of relationships that would make him want to jump out a window. So, in lieu of having a comrade in the battle against lusty, workplace inappropriate thoughts, Shisui decides to do what he does best: he lies. He continues on with the routine that they’ve developed during their stay in Boston, joking and laughing and smiling as if absolutely nothing has gone wrong. And Shisui actually manages to maintain that manically put-together energy, right up until The Damn Suit comes back out.

Truthfully, he shouldn't even _be_ here to witness The Damn Suit again. He’d told his big errand for the night to expect him around seven, but then hadn’t been able to find an easy excuse to throw at Itachi to score a quick getaway. So, as seventy-thirty rolls around, Shisui’s still in his apartment, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he nearly draws blood as Itachi emerges from the guestroom with the tie in his hand and a scowl on his face. 

“It seemed much easier,” Itachi mumbles, “when Roberta was doing this for me.” 

His heart impossibly full, Shisui says, “Come here,” and as always Itachi follows his orders.

The memory of their last morning in Pragma sits in his stomach like a sickness as Shisui fixes Itachi’s tie for him. He focuses on the movement of his hands, the feel of the silk between his fingers, rather than risk looking up to see the expression on Itachi’s face. Frankly, he’s pretty sure it would straight-up knock him out to once again glimpse the cold finalty Itachi spoke with that morning. In case the daydream of this week had somehow brainwashed him into thinking he had even a sliver of a chance with Itachi, the deja vu of their current moment is a necessary yet not-so-nice reminder. 

Once he’s done he takes a wide, significant step out of Itachi’s personal space and for the sake of his own sanity ignores the way Itachi’s frame tightens at the gesture. “You’re good to go,” Shisui tells him, forcing a sarcastic smirk on his face. “Now, have fun, be polite, and don’t talk with your mouth full, okay?”

“You are insufferable,” Itachi retorts, clearly fighting a smile, and Shisui winks. 

“It’s my very best quality.”

Not long after that Itachi slips out the door, leaving Shisui with a sharp pain throbbing in the pit of his chest. 

But the most fucked up thing of all? Is the fact that somehow there manages to be something even worse than Shisui’s tortured, unrequited love on the menu for the rest of his evening. 

*

Whatever Shisui’s expecting Kin to be, he’s certainly not prepared for the woman that receives him. The face staring back at him through the narrow-cracked door is gaunt and sallow, home to jet black eyes bruised with insomnia and wide with suspicion. “You’re late,” she informs him through cracked, pursed lips, and Shisui swallows down the lump that forms in his throat at the sight of her rail-thin fingers. 

“Lost track of time,” he replies, evenly as he’s able. “You want to invite me in?”

Wordlessly, Kin flings the door open, though not before flashing Shisui a scowl as she backs away from him. As he enters the apartment, he can’t help but notice the complete lack of life or even decency in the room. The wallpaper is dingy and peeling, the floors ruined and windows one good gust away from shattering completely. There’s no furniture other than an ancient mattress on the floor and a few scattered lamps and chairs. Not a single piece of character exists in the tiny studio, not one sign that a person lives in this place and has made it a home. Of course, given how Kin’s spent most of her life, Shisui doubts she even knows what a home is, which is a thought far too sobering for him to dwell on in his current state.

As if reading his mind, Kin snorts as she starts to dig in the small dresser pressed against that godawful mattress. “Nice, isn’t it?” she asks sardonically, her curtain of tangled dark hair hiding her expression as she searches.

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Shisui lingers by the door awkwardly, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s a real fixer-upper,” he answers, which earns him a cold little laugh as Kin emerges with a pack of crumbled cigarettes. 

“Well, not all of us can live in fancy Back Bay brownstones, can we?” she retorts as she lights up, and Shisui raises an unnerved eyebrow.

“And you know where I live… _how_ , exactly?”

“Forgive me for wanting to return the favor of you hunting me down,” she mutters, which… is a fair point, Shisui can concede this. “Look, I’d offer you a bite to eat, but to be honest I don’t really want you here. That and I’m a shit cook,” she admits, the words muffled, and Shisui offers a smile in the hopes of bridging a truce. 

“I’m good, but thanks.” Kin watches him for another moment, clearly sussing him out, and in response Shisui tries to wait as patiently as possible for his judgement. Whatever she sees must be enough to earn him good enough graces, as the woman shrugs in ambivalence before curling her tiny body into a window frame with an ashtray in hand. Clearing his throat, Shisui says, “So, how do you want to--”

“Just ask your damn questions already,” Kin cuts in, rolling her eyes as smoke flows heavy through her nose.

“Okay, then,” he exhales. Sensing he’s in for a long evening, he slides into the cleanest, least-broken chair in Kin’s exceptionally broken hovel before asking, “Did Kabuto tell you why I’m here?”

“Not really, but I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason every other fucking person has tracked me down.” Staring into the burning, bright tip of her cigarettes, Kin murmurs, “Orochimaru,” and the name sounds as heavy as steel falling from her lips.

“Something like that,” Shisui replies. After a moment’s hesitation, he continues, “I know this is a pretty sensitive subject, so if there’s anything you don’t want to talk about--”

“Get on with it,” she counters, irritation flickering in her otherwise lifeless eyes, and so he does.

“When did Orochimaru take you in?”

Snorting, Kin retorts, “‘Taking me in’ is a pretty generous way of putting it. But to answer your question, I was five when my parents sold me to him.” Despite his best effort at controlling his expression, the disgust Shisui feels must show on his face, as Kin bitterly adds, “Hate to break it to you, but not everyone has cute, happy little families like yours.”

Stuffing down the impulse to tell Kin she doesn’t know a damn thing about his cute, happy little family, Shisui instead asks, “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Didn’t need to; he just flashed Mom and Dad some cold, hard credits and then I was his.” 

“Then what?”

“What did you think?” Kin asks, unimpressed. “He did the same shit to me that he did to every other unlucky brat he could get his nasty little hands on. We were just little mice in a box to him, to be used and abused however he wanted.” A slight tremor works its way through her small hands as she continues, the words coming faster and harsher, “I was with Orochimaru for so long I barely remember anything else. He kept us in a cages, like dirty fucking animals, and the only time he let us run free was when he wanted to play with us. Except for him, ‘play’ was cutting us open and playing with our insides, but whatever gets your rocks off, right? Most of the kids he took in didn’t last long, because bodies weren’t meant to be broken over and over and _over_ again. But I did. I was so unlucky I saw the whole damn thing from start to finish.” 

Concern very quickly overrides Shisui’s desire to get dirt on Danzo when he catches sight of the way Kin is all but shaking. “Do you want to take a bre--”

“No,” Kin snaps, her fist tightening around the glass of her ashtray nearly hard enough to crack it. “Just keep asking me your fucking questions.”

“Okay,” Shisui murmurs. An odd anxiety washes over him as he looks directly at her and continues, “In all the time you spent with Orochimaru, do you ever recall him making deals with people on the Jormungandr? I mean, did anyone important ever board the ship that caught your eye?” 

“What, you mean like suits?” Brow wrinkling in thought, she adds, “I don’t really remember much about the people coming and going; when we weren’t being used for his experiments Orochimaru kept us locked up in our wing. The only person he allowed any freedom on the ship was Kabuto, and that’s only because he considered him his personal _pet_.” Kin doesn’t so much speak the word as much as she does spit it, disgust practically dripping from her lips, and Shisui has a single moment of crushing guilt well up in his heart when he thinks of the way he’s treated Kabuto over the last year. For the time being, he decides to put that aside for further investigation, keenly aware of how closely he needs to be paying attention in the here and now.

“So, nobody ever stood out to you, then? No visitors you can recall?” 

“Only one, now that I think about it. It was towards the end of my time with him, before Kabuto saved all of our asses and Orochimaru got put down like a dog. Man, I would have loved to see that.” Shisui allows her a single second of bloodthirsty mental indulgence before impatiently raising his eyebrows and encouraging her to continue. “Anyway, I was on the chopping block, kind of out of it after yet another one of Orochimaru’s fun and exciting games, when some guy comes into the lab.”

Trying not to get his hopes up, Shisui presses, “You remember anything about him?”

“For one thing, he was old as fucking dirt, that I definitely remember. And I don’t think Orochimaru was all that happy to see him, either. I mean, I was passing out left and right, but they were definitely bitching at each other about something.”

“But you didn’t catch a name?”

“Uhh, no, I think I did, I just can’t remember it to save my fucking life.” Face twisted in frustration, Kin reaches up to run a hand through her scraggly hair in a gesture that feels achingly familiar. The sleeve of her oversized sweater slides down just enough to reveal a litany of wounds both old and new, jagged scars from years past and tiny, pinprick holes that quite frankly Shisui has no right to judge. Kin’s lost enough in her memory that she doesn’t catch Shisui staring, and he darts his gaze away before he’s caught. “God, what was that asshole’s name? Oh, wait! I’m pretty sure it was--”

“Danzo,” Shisui and Kin state at the exact same time, and it feels as if every nerve in Shisui’s body has been set alight. After more than a year of frantically searching for evidence, months and months of looking over his shoulder and praying to a God he’s never believed in that the people he loves won’t be taken from him, this is _it_. 

Narrowing her eyes, Kin asks, “What the hell are you doing here?” Just as Shisui opens his mouth to tell her he can’t actually _tell_ her anything, she snaps, “And don’t say it’s none of my business. You come in here, you bring up all this shit without giving me a reason, and you expect me to just let it go? I’ve spent a life running from what Orochimaru did to me, so trust me when I tell you it’s my damn business.”

Considering the circumstances, it's a pretty impossible position to argue against. “Alright,” Shisui agrees quietly. “I have a theory about that guy, Danzo. That he was bankrolling all the terrible things Orochimaru did for his own gains until Orochimaru started being more useful to Danzo dead than alive. And if I’m right, then a lot of people are in danger, including people I care about.”

“What kind of people?” Kin counters, looking oddly amused. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Pet rock?”

“Something like that,” he says wryly before continuing, more seriously, “I came here today hoping to get proof that Danzo was as bad as I thought he was. And I got it.”

“So, what now?”

“Well, I guess now is the part where I try to convince you to tell my superiors everything you just told me.” Panic immediately flares in Kin’s eyes, so Shisui quickly adds, “I know that it’s a scary thing to imagine, but--”

“No, you _don’t_ know,” Kin snarls. “You don’t know what it’s like to live the life I have. You don’t have a fucking clue.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Shisui admits, as gently as he can, “but what I _do_ know is that if nothing happens to stop Danzo than more people--more _kids_ \--will end up hurt like you were. And I know that I’m willing to do just about anything to stop that.” Sighing harshly he continues, “What I’m asking you to fucking sucks; I get that. But I wouldn’t be so pushy if I didn’t need your help.” 

To her credit, Kin takes a long, silent moment to actually consider his proposition. That said, Shisui can’t bring himself to be surprised when she shakes her head fiercely and replies, “I can’t.” 

Despite the disappointment brimming in his chest, Shisui offers her a small smile. “I understand,” he says, rising from his chair and brushing off his knees. “In that case, no reason for me to keep bothering you.” Weighing the pros and cons of his next words very carefully, he decides to bite the bullet and ask her, “I don’t suppose you’d tell me if there was something I could do to make your life even the slightest bit less shitty, is there?”

The sharp grin Kin flashes at him almost reminds him of Anko. “Not a chance.”

“Figured as much,” he replies. “If you change your mind--”

“I know where to find you,” she finishes.

“Take care of yourself, Kin,” Shisui murmurs as he lets himself out of the apartment, the sound of the lock clicking behind him painfully loud in the otherwise silent halls. 

In an ideal world, he could have plucked Kin from this hellhole like a flower growing from a split city sidewalk. But over the last few years Shisui’s learned enough unpleasant truths about the universe he inhabits to know better than to get his hopes up.

He’s also learned to be prepared for the worst case scenario, which is exactly why he began covertly recording his and Kin’s every word the second he stepped into the apartment. 

A pang of regret echoes through him at the betrayal, but the common sentiment rings true once more: desperate times lead to desperate measures. At this point, all he can hope for is that this little bit of evil leads to a whole lot more good. 

*

After leaving Kin’s sorry excuse for a home, he wanders the streets in a haze, allowing the numbing chill in his limbs because it’s better than feeling nothing at all. In the wake of the woman’s accidental Danzo revelation, life has the energy of staring into a vast, lifeless abyss. Foolishly Shisui had thought that once he had proof--real, solid proof--of the politician’s treachery everything would suddenly and beautifully fall into place. But somehow it doesn’t feel like that at all. Somehow, Shisui feels even more lost and confused than before, like he’s staring into an incomprehensible natural wonder the human mind isn’t designed to understand. Because now that he can prove that one of the most powerful people in the known universe is planning to destroy everything he holds dear for the sake of his own selfish desires, Shisui doesn’t know a single fucking thing to do about it. 

The more he dwells on the utter desperation of the situation, the more he thinks it’s almost fitting he’s so stupidly bewildered. After all, it’s not like Shisui knows what to do to fix all the other problems in his life. He doesn’t know how to reverse the damage of this entire week, how to package up his memories of Itachi inside his home, framed in tender, cozy lighting inside Shisui’s mind, so that when everything is said and done Shisui can actually live in the damn apartment again. He doesn’t know how to survive the next two years, just a fraction of his life that will no doubt pass far too quickly and drag on painfully slowly at the same. And he certainly doesn’t know how to handle the very first boogeyman that ever appeared in his life, the man that’s come back to haunt him since the moment Shisui heard he nearly died.

Without meaning to, his feet take him to the one place he swore up and down he’d never return to. A part of Shisui was surprised to learn via his mother that his father has actually managed to maintain this shabby little dive he calls an apartment given that the man was never very good at holding onto anything else in his life. Before moving into this place he’d actually stayed for Shisui for a hot minute, which was the only reason Shisui had selected such an unnecessarily large apartment to live in in the first place. That hadn’t lasted long considering the combination of father and son was as peaceful as gasoline and a lit match, but you couldn’t blame a foolish, emotionally-damaged, codependent son for trying. 

Of course, you _could_ potentially blame Shisui for putting his fist through a wall during a screaming match with said father, but that was precisely why he didn’t tell people about that incident. It was also why he bought the damn place in the first place, because the process of trying to secretly repair the rental had been nightmarish. 

He’s not sure how long he stands in the dark, December night, staring at his father’s building without ever knowing what he was looking for or what he wanted. All he knows is that by the time he finally drags himself out of the cold it feels like he will never thaw out. 

*

When the sunlight streams into his bedroom on their second-to-last morning in Boston, Shisui greets it with a bad attitude and a murderous headache.

Itachi hadn’t been home when Shisui returned to the apartment, which gave him ample time to drink himself into oblivion without worrying about stoking the Vulcan’s concern. The irony of his evening activities wasn’t lost on Shisui, given his chronically burning anger towards his father, but it never has been. He’s always done this, thrown himself off some sort of cliff--drinking, working, fucking--to avoid staring into the sheer force of his own feelings, and he’s always known that he was dancing on the edge of danger by behaving like that. It’s exactly what his mother told him, back when he was an idiot teenager feeding on his rage and self-destruction like it was a five course meal. “You know who you’ll become if you stay like this,” she had said, and _of course_ he knew. How could he not, when back then every time he looked in the mirror he saw the shadow of his father’s face staring back at him? 

But the problem with Shisui has always been the subtle yet severe distance between knowing something and actually understanding it. So yes, Shisui _knows_ he’s being an irresponsible moron that’s about five seconds away from repeating his family’s ugly history. It’s just that he’s not sure he’s capable of doing anything else. 

His hangover practically leaving him blind, it’s muscle memory alone that guides Shisui through his apartment once he resolves not to die in his own bed. The vision of Itachi, brows knitted and lips curved in a worried frown, is almost more painful than his migraine, and Shisui digs his thumbs into his eyes to avoid the sight of it. “Shisui,” he begins carefully, “are you… alright?”

“Fine,” Shisui mumbles in return, groaning as he drops onto the couch, “just didn’t sleep well, is all.” 

Itachi, never one to be deceived or deterred, presses on. “And you’re certain that is the only problem?” 

“Well, my lack of caffeine certainly isn’t doing me any favors,” he mutters, contemplating the pros and cons of potentially falling to his death while making his way into the kitchen.

A long silence follows his response, as if Itachi’s also deep in thought. Most likely the man’s considering whether or not it’s worth it to try and push past Shisui’s lies to find the real issue plaguing him. But for once, for some unfathomable reason, Itachi decides not to die on the hill of Shisui’s rapidly crumbling well-being. “I will put some water on to boil, then,” he replies, and since it’s pretty much the only thing food-related Shisui trusts Itachi to do he allows it.

Roughly an hour later, once Shisui’s tossed back two cups of coffee and managed to throw together a dumpy breakfast with what’s left of their groceries, he tells Itachi, “You know my mother’s expecting us for dinner tonight.”

Itachi, having been somehow even quieter than usual, pipes up for the first time in nearly twenty minutes. “I am aware; she made it quite clear she intended to see us both before our leave ended.” 

It feels like a knife to the gut, the way Itachi casually drops those words. Like they’re lovers instead of people who just happened to be thrown together by the cruel hands of circumstance. “I can get us out of it, if you want,” Shisui says. “Fake some food poisoning or a kidney transplant or something.” 

Tilting his head curiously, Itachi asks, “And why would I want that?”

Shisui shrugs. “I dunno. I know my mom can be a bit much sometimes, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” The truth is that Shisui’s more than a little terrified that any more time spent in his mother’s presence with Itachi in toe will reveal just how much this impossible love affair has rotted his brain. If there’s anyone in this galaxy he can’t hide from, it’s the woman who gave birth to him. With her shrewd wit and knowing eyes, Keiko’s always been just a little too good at picking apart his defenses. It’s a horrifying prospect to Shisui, someone who’s made of nothing _but_ defenses. 

“There is nothing to be concerned about,” Itachi tells him. “I quite liked your mother when I met her. She was exceptionally kind to me, and our conversation was very enjoyable.” Anxiety must show on Shisui’s face because after one look at him Itachi’s own expression softens and he adds, gentler than before, “It will be fine.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Shisui counters, aiming for wry but sounding a little too nervy to pull it off. 

Since he’s almost positive his mother will sucker them into spending the night, there’s virtually no point in packing and coming back for their things. So, after their sorry excuse for breakfast, Shisui and Itachi go their separate ways to organize their belongings. It feels painfully final, that the charmed life they’ve established together is coming to a truly unfortunate end, and Shisui tries not to think too hard on that for his own sake. After all, if he falls apart now he’ll never be able to put on a solid enough front to convince his mother.

It occurs to Shisui, as they’re piling into his car not long after sundown, that the combined morning and afternoon is the most amount of time they’ve spent apart all week. It’s just another reminder how scrambled and weird life is going to be between them when they return to the Corvus and have to readjust their boundaries all over again. The drive across the city is silent, filled with all the words they either can’t or won’t speak aloud, and by the time they pull into his mother’s garage Shisui’s stomach feels like a lead pit. 

“Well,” Shisui sighs as he kills the ignition, “let’s get this shit over with.” 

“Shisui.” Before he can step out, Itachi’s hand reaches to catch him, fingers wrapping around his wrist with the brute physical strength Itachi so rarely displays. For a long, tense moment, Itachi says nothing, simply stares at Shisui as if he can somehow directly transplant his thoughts into Shisui’s brain just by looking hard enough. It’s just another example of the inexplicably fraught tension that exists between them and crops up whenever Shisui least expects or wants it. Sitting in his beaten-up old car in the shadow of his childhood home, it feels like Itachi is staring at him sharply enough to tear him to pieces, bit by shallow bit, until all that’s left is Shisui’s naked desire for him. 

Eventually Itachi’s hand falls away, and the area where his skin touched Shisui’s feels like it’s singed. “It was nothing,” Itachi murmurs, though Shisui can barely hear him over the pounding of blood between his own ears. “We should go inside before your mother begins to worry.” 

Shisui breathes in deep enough to hurt before releasing it in a harsh rush. “Right,” he mutters, climbing out of his seat and all but slamming the car door behind him. 

The rich smell of his mother’s cooking as they enter the house is enough to drive away Shisui’s demons, at least for the time being. With eyebrows raised, he takes in the sight of their humble kitchen positively _covered_ in food. Everywhere Shisui looks there’s another plate of home-made traditional cooking, vegetarian twists on all of his favorite dishes from his youth. “Jesus, Ma. You don’t have to do all this just for me.” 

“I didn’t,” his mother counters, scowling as she emerges from the pantry. “I did it for him.” Once she spots Itachi, lingering behind Shisui with the trepidation of an outsider, her expression sweetens, and she practically pushes past Shisui to sweep the Vulcan up in her arms. “How are you, Itachi?”

“I am well, thank you,” Itachi replies, looking surprised but not, as Shisui had feared, displeased by his mother’s friendliness. “How about yourself?”

Keiko’s eyes light up and she looks at Shisui, lips thinned in disapproval. “See, _this_ is a nice boy,” she says, shaking Itachi’s arm for emphasis. “Why can’t you be a nice boy like him?”

Snorting, Shisui pulls out a chair at the table and doesn’t even dignify that with a response. 

Despite whatever the fuck happened between them before they stepped inside the house, Shisui’s relieved to discover that their three person dinner isn’t nearly as awkward as he was expecting it to be. He’s content to leave Itachi and Keiko to their devices, choosing to stuff his face and speak as little as possible while the two chat each other up like long-lost friends. It’s jarring to watch Itachi, usually so uncomfortable and insecure in social situations, melt into the relaxed warmth of his mother’s company, and it’s just as jarring for his mother to have a piece of her son’s life she can genuinely connect to. For perhaps the very first time, Shisui breaks out of his neurotic and potentially narcissistic point of view and imagines what it must be like for her, to have her only child flitting about the universe completely unwilling to share a single thing about himself, and feels a twinge of guilt in his chest. If he manages to survive the next few years, he resolves to return to Earth a man who’s much kinder to and more honest with his mother. 

“I admire you for wearing your hair so long,” Keiko tells Itachi, about an hour after he and Shisui crash-landed into her kitchen. “I’ve always wanted to grow mine out, but I’ve never had the patience for it.”

Once again Itachi’s wearing his hair down, as he has been doing for much of the week, because he’s apparently on a mission to drive Shisui crazy. As if on cue, he reaches up and tucks a strand back, exposing the pointed tip of one of his ears. Shisui spares a glance at his mother, almost daring her to say something, but to her relief nothing in her expression changes. “It can be a nuisance sometimes,” he admits. 

“Well, it certainly suits you,” she replies, and Itachi’s hand stills, just for a moment.

“My mother told me the same thing once,” he says, and the mention of Mikoto has Shisui on edge. There are times when he almost forgets the massive loss Itachi so recently experienced, because after leaving Vulcan Itachi had refused to wear his grief on his sleeve any longer. Shisui caught glimpses of Itachi’s pain, private and raw as it was, only occasionally, but each time he witnessed it it felt like something he had no right to see. Knowing what his mother meant to Itachi, Shisui’s immediately protective of his First Officer and the relationship he shared with the woman who loved him the most. 

“She’s a smart woman.” 

“She was,” Itachi agrees, after a long pause. There’s less hurt in his voice than Shisui had expected, more of a numb, even type of sorrow, like a still-healing wound that’s been aggressively prodded at. “She passed earlier this year, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Keiko tells him sincerely, and Itachi nods his gratitude. Shisui’s tempted to reach for him, to comfort him, but the memory of Itachi clutching at him earlier in the night, staring at him with searching eyes, stills his hand.

“So,” his mother says, quick to change the subject, “what’s it like where you’re from, Itachi?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ma, will you give a rest already?” Shisui snaps around a mouthful of potsticker. “Quit harassing the guy.” 

“How does trying to get to know your friend better qualify as harassment?” she demands, features twisting up in annoyance as she shifts her attention to her son. “I’m just trying to be _nice_.” 

“Shisui, it’s okay,” Itachi assures him with a small smile before answering Keiko’s question. “It is quite warm on Vulcan, almost all year long, so the climate is vastly different from yours. And as you can imagine the people are different as well. Vulcans are a very… reserved species, much more focused on intellectual pursuits than our emotions.”

“No wonder why you always beat my son while you were at the Academy,” Keiko jokes, and Itachi grins. 

“One of many reasons, I’m afraid.”

“Ugh, I’ve created a monster introducing you,” Shisui remarks, shaking his head. “With you two ganging up on me I’ll never know a moment’s peace.”

“Oh, get over it,” his mother counters, flapping a hand as if to slap away his words. “Small price to pay for you to actually be happy for once in your life.” Before Shisui can even drum up some sort of response to try and defuse _that_ atomic bomb of a sentence, Keiko simply barrels on. “So, do you miss it, Itachi? Being home?” 

The question is a loaded one, and Shisui immediately flashes back to the memory of dim bar lighting and the feeling of pressing his alcohol-warm cheek against Itachi’s shoulder. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Itachi stiffly replies, “Not especially,” and all the air in his lungs escapes his body like it’s fleeing a war. He keeps his eyes focused on his empty plate as Itachi continues, “There are certain parts of Vulcan that I do find myself missing, like my brother and my lab--and even my father, if I am feeling particularly generous. But there are so many other things that I would rather keep at bay for as long as I am able.”

Keiko looks at Itachi thoughtfully, appraising him like he’s a fine jewel she’s trying to decide the value of. It’s annoying as hell to Shisui, who’s about five seconds away from telling her that, corny as it sounds, as far as he’s concerned Itachi is priceless. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re travelling around with my son, then, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Itachi murmurs, for once sounding a little bit breathless himself, “I believe it is.” 

*

By the time the family dinner from awkward hell comes to a close, snow has begun to fall from the sky in earnest. Itachi, having rarely experienced such a phenomenon, sits on the couch and watches out the window as the world around them is covered in white. He looks like a studious scientist but also, Shisui thinks with a touch of heartsickness, almost childlike in his innocent fascination. 

It hits him all over again that he loves this man, this person that up until three years ago barely registered to him as a fully-realized being. He’s in love with Itachi--brilliant, sarcastic, determined, loyal, beautiful Itachi--in a way he’s never loved anyone in his life, and it’s never going to mean a fucking thing.

He doesn’t realize his mother is standing beside him until she’s lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand. And, though he wants to put up his protective walls once more, Shisui decides to be vulnerable, just this once, and squeezes right back. 

Later that night, sleep evades him as he lies, wide awake, in the bed of his childhood room. For hours he stares at the ceiling, his body still and his mind racing. Try as he might, he can’t ignore the fact that by this time tomorrow he and Itachi will be returning to their destined roles, dodging Klingon warriors while Shisui schemes behind Itachi’s back to battle Danzo. Time, he thinks, might be the biggest enemy of all, because with every second that ticks by he gets closer and closer to losing Itachi for good.

By half-past three in the morning, Shisui decides to give up the ghost and caves to his second worst impulse. After slipping on a sweatshirt and shoving an ancient pack of smokes in his pocket, he tip-toes through the hall and down the stairs before carefully unlocking the patio door. The cold is almost welcome, a slap in the face to jar him out of his depressive state, and even though his fingers shake he still lights up a cigarette. Four sticks and a touch of frostbite later, he decides to reach out to the only person in the galaxy he can truly be honest with.

Anko, trusty as always, picks up on the second ring. Frowning as she takes in the sight of him, she asks, dryly concerned, “What the fuck happened to you?”

“What, besides surviving my mother breaking bread with my second-in-command?” Shisui retorts, then almost immediately wishes he hadn’t said a word when Anko’s face morphs into something… _odd_.

“Wait, you brought the green bean home to meet your _mom_?” she demands.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Shisui says defensively. “You know how she is about shit like this, like a dog with a fucking bone. There’s no avoiding her when she thinks she’s onto something.”

“And is she?”

“Hell if I know.” 

Shisui decides to seize Anko’s silence as an opportunity to take another drag of his cigarette, and if Anko has any thoughts about his panicked smoking she keeps them to herself. “So, what does my favorite woman think of her outer space visitor?” she finally asks, and Shisui snorts, the sound almost inaudible given the blizzard forming around him.

“She’s in love with him,” Shisui tells her dryly, ignoring how the memory of his mother fondly smiling at Itachi churns his guts like butter. “It’s terrible to watch, honestly.”

“I’m puking as we speak,” Anko mutters, looking thoroughly disgusted, and Shisui can’t help but laugh. Even at her worst, Anko is a comfort to him in the way that so few things in this world are. “How did you even introduce him? I’m guessing ‘my employee with whom I’m having an illicit emotional yet depressingly sexless affair’ didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” 

“Actually, I told her the truth, if you can believe it; unlike some people in this conversation, I can do that kind of thing.”

“I wouldn’t be getting too cosy up on that high horse if I were you, considering you lied to your own mommy about your alien boytoy.”

“What did I lie about?” Shisui counters, his temper flickering hot in the winter night. “We’re not together, Anko.”

“If you keep this up I’m going to strangle you the moment you set foot on this ship again.” Narrowing her thickly-lined eyes, Anko gives him a long, hard stare as she says, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dipshit, so just admit that stupid Vulcan is more than a work colleague to you.”

“Of course he is, but that doesn’t mean…” Closing his eyes to block out Anko’s critical gaze, all he sees is Itachi: Itachi eating breakfast in his apartment, Itachi enjoying a conversation with his mother, Itachi clutching Shisui’s arm in his car like he’s a goddamn lifeline. All he ever sees is Itachi these days. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he finishes, sounding more than a little pitiful, and in return Anko gives him that uncharacteristic sad look, like he’s a scrawny tomcat roaming the streets in search of garbage, that Shisui is beginning to hate. 

“Now who’s lying?”

“I’m _not_.” He is, but it’s not like that’s anything new. “Why are we even having this conversation? Seriously, why does it even matter?”

“It’s _matters_ ,” Anko insists, with a ferocity Shisui can’t help but find impressive, “because for some unfathomable reason I am your friend, and as your friend it’s my duty to crawl so far up your asshole you’ll barf me out when you make dumbass decisions like killing yourself by pretending you’re not crazy about a guy.” 

Despite his romantic woes, the weight of Anko’s aggressive affection for him wraps around his shoulders like a cozy blanket. “You are the most charming woman I’ve ever met, you know that?” 

“Don’t deflect,” she chides, and before Shisui can even offer a retort Anko says, “You should tell him.”

“Well, that’s exceedingly high up on the list of ‘crazy and bad ideas I will never, ever bring to life _ever_ ,’” Shisui all but chokes out. “Why the fuck would I tell him?” 

“Because the sooner you confess your schoolboy crush on him, the sooner you can move on and find some fresh bone to cheer yourself up.” 

“Anko…” Licking his lips, Shisui considers exactly how dangerous it will be to admit to her--and to himself--the thought that’s been playing over and over again in his head this entire week, the one he hasn’t wanted to think about for even a second because of how terrifyingly final it is. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he continues, “I don’t think there’s any moving on from this one.”

His best friend’s reaction is fierce and instantaneous. “The hell does that mean? Are you going to curl up in a corner and die like a sad, old dog because Itachi’s not going to Vulcan marry you?”

“It means,” Shisui begins softly, “that I’m pretty sure this is it. That _he’s_ it.” To that, Anko has no reply, simply stares at him like he has spontaneously sprouted tribbles in place of his head, and fear that Shisui’s never felt before fills his chest. For all the dumb things he’s said and done, never once has he ever worried that his choices would cost him Anko. But now, on the heels of his deranged romantic admission, that possibility suddenly seems frighteningly real. “You there?” he asks, more than a little desperate, and to his relief Anko nods. 

“Yeah, I’m just… processing,” she answers quietly. A gentleness that looks wholly out of place on the harsh planes of Anko’s features colors her expression and relief bleeds through Shisui’s body in response. “All the time you spent sleeping around and the moment you finally decide to clean your act up you go and fall in love with an engaged, emotionally constipated weirdo. You really fucked it up this time, didn’t you, Uchiha?”

“Guess I did.” With a chill unrelated to the brutal Boston weather working through his body, he tells Anko, “Look, I should head back before she starts asking Itachi what our future kids’ names are gonna be.”

“Shisui…” Anko trails over, seemingly unsure how to finish, before she shakes her head and simply says, “Come home soon, okay?”

The smile Shisui offers in return is the most genuine one he’s given all night. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me,” he assures her, disconnecting from his PADD before she can mock him for his sentimentality. 

To his surprise, his mother is sitting at the kitchen table as he steps inside once more, wearing a fluffy pink robe and a frown. “I thought you were quitting,” she says, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes in his hand, and Shisui shrugs in response.

“Old habits die hard,” he replies, which is the best justification he can give right now. Sliding into the seat across from her he notes, “You’re up late.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Keiko tells him, though she doesn’t look particularly tired. “What about you?”

“Same problem, I guess.”

“Makes sense. Seems like you’ve got a lot on your plate these days, not that you ever tell me anything about it.” Though her tone is neutral, Shisui’s smart enough to sense the well of negative emotions behind her words. “Your job, your boyfriend--”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend,” he insists, irritation flaring, but his mother continues on as if she’d never be interrupted. 

“Your father,” she concludes, as mildly as she can, as if she didn’t just shoot him dead with two little words. “I know you don’t want to talk about him.”

“I don’t want to _want_ to talk about him,” Shisui cuts in. It isn’t until he feels the bite of his nails against his palms that he realizes he’s curled his fists tight enough to hurt. Carefully unwinding her fingers, he avoids his mother’s gaze as he reluctantly asks, “Is he actually… Is it real this time?”

“I think so,” Keiko answers evenly. “but I think it was always real. Just because the outcome isn’t what we all wanted doesn’t mean he wasn’t making an effort.”

And just like that the floodgates open. With a bitter scoff, Shisui shakes his head and harshly replies, “You make it sound so easy, like he just tripped and happened to ruin my entire life by accident.”

“He hurt me, too, Shisui.” There’s a quiet anger to his mother’s words that Shisui’s not used to, which makes the statement seem all the more painful. “It isn’t the same, obviously, but believe me when I say your father’s illness hasn’t been a picnic for me, either.” 

“Then why do you act like I’m some cold-blooded asshole for cutting him out of my life?”

Keiko’s features twist in a mixture of surprise and horror. “Is that how you think I see you?”

“Isn’t it?” he demands, feeling like he’s fracturing as he continues, “Isn’t that how everyone sees me, like some selfish prick who picked my happiness over my own father? Because it sure feels that way.” With a shuddering breath, Shisui makes an effort to lower his voice and says, “I get it, he hurt you, too. But you didn’t have to be a child who felt the pressure to raise his own father, not like I did. I gave up everything over and over and _over_ again to take care of Dad, and it never fucking mattered. He never got better--not for you, not for himself, and definitely not for me.” To his absolute mortification Shisui feels his eyes stinging, and he blinks in a ruthless attempt to make the sensation disappear. “So, sorry, but no, weirdly enough I _don’t_ want to throw down the welcome mat just so he can break my heart all over again, because I’m pretty sure it would kill me.” 

His mother looks at him as if _he’s_ broken _her_ heart, snapped the organ clean in twice, and Shisui hates it. He hates everything about this conversation. “Oh, kiddo,” she whispers, and he lifts a hand to silence her.

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” 

“Of course not; you don’t need anyone to feel anything for you.”

Feeling like he’s been slapped, Shisui asks, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” Keiko answers, “that you cut yourself off from people. You always have, ever since you were a boy, and it’s.... Sometimes I look at you and I feel like I don’t even know you, because you won’t _let_ me.” Sadness fills his mother’s eyes in a way that Shisui can bear to look at as she confesses, “The closest I’ve ever seen you get to anyone--besides Anko--is that boy upstairs. I see how you look at him.”

Though he’s almost certain he doesn’t want to hear her response, Shisui can help but reply, “And how is that?”

“Like you want him to see you,” Keiko says plainly. “Like you want him to know you.” 

It’s perhaps the single most upsetting thing that’s ever been said to him, agonizing in its accuracy, and for a second Shisui simply sits there, numb and exposed. “He’s engaged to someone else,” he blurts out eventually, not really knowing where the words are coming from, but it doesn’t stop him from telling his mother, “He doesn’t love her, it’s just… a cultural thing. Family expectations and all that.”

Keiko blinks, visibly shocked. “Well, that is incredibly stupid,” she mutters, and despite the nauseous hurt in his head Shisui coughs up a laugh.

“I don’t disagree.”

“He doesn’t know, does he?” His mother asks him, suddenly serious. “How you feel about him?”

“I thought he did, once. I mean, as much as I’ve tried I can’t exactly be subtle about it.” Shisui thinks of all the times he’s told Itachi about his feelings in every way except with words. He remembers kneeling on the floor of Itachi’s bathroom the night before Mikoto’s memorial service with green Vulcan blood on his hands and asking, _Isn’t it obvious_? So often he’s tried to express himself to Itachi, with an act of self-sacrificing devotion here or an intimate touch there, and each and every time Itachi’s looked at him like he was a crazy person. “But he’s either that clueless or he deliberately chooses to ignore my feelings to spare us both the pain and awkwardness of rejecting me when I inevitably throw my still-beating heart at him.”

“Poetic,” Keiko notes wryly before announcing. “There might be a third option.”

“Which is?”

“That he feels exactly the same,” she replies, “and is just as scared as you are to do something about it.”

“Even if that was the case, it wouldn’t make a difference.” Swallowing thickly, he hoarsely explains, “Itachi’s made it pretty clear what his future plans are and they don’t involve shacking up and having two point five kids with me.”

“Do you want that?” Keiko asks, eyes once again wide with obvious shock. “Children?”

“I don’t know, Ma,” Shisui says, exasperated. “Up until him, I never thought about it. Guess I just always thought I’d end up miserable and alone and it wouldn’t even matter, but now…” Now Shisui’s made the stupidest mistake of all: he’d gone and let himself hope, let himself dream, of a better future. And now, because he went and made the worst decision possible, he can’t scrub the idea of spending his life with Itachi, of building a better life off the bones of his shitty former existence, from his mind. “All I fucking do is think,” he admits, the words sounding broken even to his own ears, and for the second time on this godforsaken night finds himself fighting tears. 

The look his mother gives him is all maternal affection. “Neither one of you is very bright, are you?”

“Now you just sound like Anko.”

“Why do you think she’s my favorite child?” she asks, and the laugh that escapes his mouth is enough to hold back his embarrassing crying. Sighing harshly, Keiko begins, “I’m not going to sit here and tell you how to handle the problems in your life, be they related to Itachi or your father.”

“Thank God for that,” Shisui interrupts, though at his mother’s glare he shuts up entirely. 

“That said,” she continues thinly, “I worry that you’re turning away from the things that could bring you happiness in the hopes of protecting yourself from further pain. But it’s not possible to stay safe forever, Shisui. If you never take risks all you’ll end up with is a life full of regrets.”

In reply, Shisui gives her a smile without a single kind feeling inside it. “My only regret in life would be risking the few good things I have chasing the impossible dream of finding something better,” he says, before standing from the kitchen table in an effort to kill their conversation dead. “I should head back to bed. We’re leaving pretty early tomorrow, so…” 

“I won’t keep you, then,” she murmurs. Shisui’s almost convinced he’ll get off easy until his mother decides to hit him with a doozy at the very last moment: “I hope you know that no matter what you do or who you become, there will always be a place for you here.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shisui tells her, around the lump that’s grown in his throat. “‘Night, Ma.” 

On the way back to his room, Shisui decides to make a pit stop that will no doubt drive him even closer to the brink of madness. Itachi’s door is cracked just the slightest bit and golden light pours out into the hallway as Shisui very carefully opens it. Of course Itachi, unburdened by the weight Shisui carries with him each day, is already fast asleep, and it cuts Shisui up all over again to see just how comfortable Itachi is here. Gently he reaches over to grab the Pasteur biography, splayed open across Itachi’s bed and in danger of falling to the ground, and set it on the bedside table when something shiny and bright catches his eye. And once it does Shisui really, _really_ wishes it hadn’t.

Because what he sees, tightly clutched within the curl of Itachi’s hand, is the ruby red pendant he gave to Itachi to commemorate their incredibly fake marriage.

He almost has to hand it to the universe: just when Shisui thinks it’s fucked him over as much as it can, the powers that be find a whole new position to screw him in. 

  
  


*

For better or worse, the roads are clear enough the following morning to ensure Shisui and Itachi will make their early flight without trouble. 

Having gotten less than two hours of sleep the night before, Shisui’s almost glad to leave his car behind and put his life in the hands of public transportation. If nothing else, it’s better than staying in this house, which has gained so many more of his shitty memories in the last twenty four hours. 

To his surprise, Itachi actually looks a little sad to leave Boston, and Shisui’s mother, behind. “Thank you once again for your hospitality,” he tells Keiko, with the sincerity Shisui finds so incredibly endearing, as Shisui’s coming down the stairs with their bags. “It was an honor to share your home.” 

“Believe me when I say the honor was all mine.” After seeming to debate the gesture, Keiko reaches out to wrap Itachi in her arms, and Itachi, to Shisui’s shock, melts into her embrace gratefully. From the corner of his eye he catches his mother whispering something in Itachi’s ear and the Vulcan’s dazed expression in response as he pulls back. But before he can interrogate either one of them, Keiko is shooing them both out the door on the premise of keeping them from being late. 

The question of what went wrong sits in Shisui’s mind like a dead body as they go through the motions of returning to the Corvus. Despite all of Shisui’s attempts at idle conversation and friendly banter, Itachi’s answers are short and emotionless, a far cry from the sweet intimacy they’d had just days before, and it hurts a lot more than it should to once again be on the receiving end of Itachi’s cold shoulder. Then again, Shisui blackly thinks it’s probably better to get used to feeling this way sooner rather than later. 

As soon as Shisui and Itachi reach the bridge the mob descends upon them. There are more crewmembers than Shisui can ever remember seeing on deck and each one of them looks their own type of delighted to see their commanding officers again. “You’re back!” Karin cries, running up to embrace Itachi, who offers her a very stiff pat on the back in return. “I’m so glad you’re back! It’s annoying working with just Kabuto.”

“I apologize for your distress, Karin,” Itachi retorts, a corner of his lips lifting in amusement, and Shisui can’t help but chuckle. 

“Looks like you survived,” Anko tells Shisui, and even though her tone is dry Shisui can see the worry in her face.

“Just barely,” Shisui replies, and try as he might he can’t fully turn the words into a joke.

“So,” Asuma asks, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity, “how was your impromptu vacation?” 

For the first time since leaving the city Itachi looks at Shisui, and his expression has Shisui’s stomach in knots. “The break was very much appreciated,” Itachi says, in a horrible little monotone, and Shisui holds back a wince in the hopes of saving face.

“But it’s good to be home,” Shisui adds, surprised by how much he actually means the sentiment. That said, as happy as he is to be back, he needs more recovery time before he can actually start doing his job again. So, before his beloved staff can badger him with questions and requests, he heads to his quarters to deposit his things, with Itachi following silently behind. 

Once they reach their closely-linked cabins, Shisui finally addresses the elephant in the starship. Turning to Itachi, he leans close enough to keep his voice low and asks, “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? Ever since we left my mom’s place you’ve seemed a little… off.” The anxiety from earlier surges once more the longer Itachi stares at him, like Shisui’s a stranger he can’t seem to figure out, and Shisui blathers on in a hopeless attempt to make that face go away. “Look, if she did something that made you uncomfortable you can tell me--”

“No, not all,” Itachi answers almost immediately. “Please do not think that. She was incredibly kind and welcoming to me.”

“Then what’s the matter?” 

“I…” Itachi trails off, seemingly at a loss for words, and Shisui waits with increasing worry for him to continue. Inhaling sharply, he finally says, “She had said… something to me, before we left.”

“That woman always has shit to say,” Shisui mutters, hoping to ease some of the tension, but it’s to no avail. His nerves getting worse by the minute, he finally asks, “Itachi, what happened?”

“She said that you must be serious about me,” Itachi blurts out, the words quick and panicky, “because she hasn’t seen you that happy in a very long time.”

For a brief, shining moment, Shisui genuinely contemplates opening the airlock and throwing himself to an inevitable death at the icy hands of space, because the concept of his life literally ending still seems far less painful living with the knowledge that his mother spilled the beans of his biggest, most stress-inducing secret. It was one thing to live in the awkward, muddy margins of suspected affections and heated glances; it was an entirely different experience to have Shisui’s pathetic, one-sided love for Itachi exposed in all its hideous glory. And as much as Shisui would love to deny it and pretend his mother is just a meddling crazy woman, he’s pretty sure it’s one step too far for it to be believable. Itachi’s a smart person, smart enough to understand everything that Shisui doesn’t want him to, and the knowledge of that leaves him with absolutely nothing.

When he still doesn’t reply, a clearly unsettled Itachi murmurs, “Shisui--”

“Don’t,” Shisui cuts in, quiet yet stubborn, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the heinous pity filling Itachi’s pretty face. “Please, just… _Don’t_.” 

“But--” Itachi tries again, stopping in his tracks immediately at the vehement way Shisui shakes his head. 

“I can’t do this,” Shisui says, hating how weak his voice sounds and absolutely loathing the way Itachi calls after him as Shisui turns on his heel and makes a break for his own room. It’s the coward’s way out, locking himself in his quarters like he’s hiding from debt collectors, but it’s better than whatever the _hell_ was going to come from that conversation. 

To his credit, Itachi actually lets him go, doesn’t chase after Shisui to interrogate him, which feels like a kindness he doesn’t deserve. Right now the greatest gift of all is the way Itachi leaves him, and once he’s locked inside the safety of his own room Shisui leans against the door and slides all the way down to the carpet. Perhaps he stays on the floor longer than is really healthy, but you know what?

From this moment on, what he does with his life is none of Itachi’s concern, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was created for two exact purposes: one, for me to show off how much i love a city called boston; and two, to be somewhat of a breather chapter because--at the risk of spoilers--the rest of part three is an absolute fuckshow from here on out so 
> 
> sorry in advance for that. 
> 
> also hAPPY BIRTHDAY SHISUI!!!!!! SORRY I RUINED YOUR LIFE ON YOUR BDAY!!!!!!
> 
> currently i have nothing else to say except thanks as always for reading, catch me on tumblr if you so choose, and see you next time!


End file.
